Dragh’Ar Ghon the Arbiter
by Dragonfiz
Summary: Dragh’Ar Ghon is an arbitrator assigned to bring back a badblood alive to his clan to be judged by the Clan Council. He is very good at what he does, but it's been over 120 human years since he's been to earth and things have changed, will he succeed?
1. A Return to Earth

**Dragh'Ar Ghon the Arbitrator**

**By Carrie Cole ©12/2009**

-o-o-o-o-o-**1**-o-o-o-o-o-

A Return to Earth

As his space vessel drifted silently in the orbit on the dark side of the blue and green backwater planet's moon, the Arbitrator mused about his current situation; it had been a while, but he had chased another badblood to this god-forsaken place. It had been thirty yautja years, but one hundred twenty ooman years. The badblood had been his third assignment and was slated for execution. It had taken him a while to capture the badblood because he was a seasoned hunter. The yautja was guilty of mating with an ooman and siring not one, but two pups with the female. It was against yautja code to do anything of the sort and the punishment was death; it was also unfortunate for the ooman and the pups, they had to die also. Killing the female and the young were two things that he had detested, but he was Arbitrator and he had to do his job. The yautja had fought well to protect his family, but in the end the love that he had for them caused their demise. The hunt had been difficult, but he had prevailed and brought back the badblood's head.

The oomans of the planet were a pitiful a pathetic race that had worshipped his kind. The yautja were gods and the oomans had served them thousands of ooman years with the chiva, as chosen vessels, sacrifices to fuel the hunt, pyode amedha.

_Chiva_, he thought as he remembered his own almost forty-four years ago, he was just sixteen in yautja, but sixty-four in ooman years. He let out a low pleasing growl as he thought about his youth; granted he was still young, by yautja standards, but not so young and wild when he was a young blood. Chiva had been the turning point in his life; many spoke of the test and its significance in the life of a young male, but it wasn't until he had experienced it and had lost a hunt brother in the process of taking a hardmeat queen, did he come to understand how the hunt was an integral part of his life and his existence. For over forty years, he lived for the hunt, so much so he had made little time to sire the number of pups that was common for a male of his status, a mere dozen was all he had made time to sire when he should have had close to eighty; and those who he had mated with were choosiest of females of high ranking. He was highly honored and frequently sought after, but rarely found, for he was always with his first love, the hunt.

Now, looking on his computer panel at the slowly swirling green and blue backwater planet that was shrouded by a white mist of atmosphere, he sighed. So long it had been and he wondered how the planet had changed and how far the oomans had advanced. When he was last on the planet there was no sign of technology and he was sure when he arrived things would be somewhat the same. This time he was not coming back to backwater planet as a hunter but as an Arbitrator from the Ma'thau clan; he was hunting one of his own that had become badblood. To break the code of the yautja was to break the law and he was there to bring back or put to death those that broke the yautja law. He thought about his position and smiled just lightly, he never thought that he would ascend to the level of Arbitrator; he thought he would live and breathe the hunt until he died, but fate had chosen another road for him and he had followed fate, which led him to this point in his life.

He enjoyed his job and he did it quite well, which was a obvious because he has been chasing badbloods for a little over forty years and he had never loss an assignment; he always finished each job completely. When he was not chasing badbloods he was hunting and honing his skills there would always be the hunt when there was nothing else. His current assignment was to bring the badblood back alive, something he preferred to doing instead of killing another yautja. If the assignment was that of execution, the yautja would be killed on site, and he had to bring back the head as proof. He didn't like decapitating his own kind, to him it felt all wrong, but he never questioned the elders, council or yautja law, he just did his job.

Checking the diminishing radium geothermal signature from the badblood's vessel, the Arbitrator had concluded that yautja's craft was somewhere in the northwestern hemisphere of the planet. It wasn't always this easy to track vessels, but over the years yautja technology had improved and space tracking had also improved which kept the hunter's trail fresh for the Arbitrator even though it was months old. Trilling in approval with his timely arrival, the Arbitrator slowly moved his ship into the blue and green planet's orbit; he would do another _tracking _to closer pinpoint the location of the vessel and would probably have to do several more _trackings_ to know exactly where the craft had landed once he got into the planet's atmosphere.

2


	2. Welcome Home

-o-o-o-o-o-**2**-o-o-o-o-o-

**Welcome Home**

A deep guttural purr escaped the big black cat's chest as he lay in bed beside the small black woman and it continued sounding like an engine that was idling low. On the other side of the sleeping woman was a very large and very pregnant cheetah, she purred also despite the discomfort of her pregnancy, both the cheetah and the black panther seemed to be enjoying the comfort of being in the bed with the woman. After a while the woman shifted her position in the bed and both cats took advantage of the shift and laid their heads on the woman, using her as a pillow.

Shards of orange yellow light were beginning to cut through the darkness of the night as the day started breaking. As if on cue, a beeping started on the left side of the woman and she instinctively began to groan as she slowly got up on her hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the bed and groped the nightstand beside the bed for the source of the beeping. As she crawled towards the nightstand, the panther lazily moved out of the woman's way giving her just enough room to squeeze between himself and the headboard that also served as a built-in bookcase.

"Mornin', Solomon," the woman said sleepily and she gave the big cat a kiss on the top of his head and she scratched behind his big welcoming ears. The animal began to purr deeply happy with the attention he was receiving. When the woman leaned back on her pillows that were piled high against the headboard, the cheetah crept closer and nestled herself in the woman's right arm pit. Mornin', my sweet Sheba," the woman said as she kissed she big cat right between the eyes; taking both her hands, she then proceeded to give the cat gentle scratch under her chin. That the cheetah enjoyed the attention so much that she began purring an turning her face into the delightful scratches that were making her purr like a huge kitten.

"I'm so glad to be back home with my babies," the woman declared to the animals, " I missed you while I was in the Congo, I know that uncle Duke took good care of you, but I still missed you," she continued as she tried to draw both cats closer to her. The stroking and purring continued until the shards of morning sunrays grew larger and larger. The brisk Appalachian mountains of West Virginia were a refreshing part of nature that she always looked forward to whenever she would leave the states and then return. Being able to have her home in a national park was one of the perks that came with her profession as a research scientist, different agencies and companies wanted a piece of her work and in some instances they were amendable to bartering for her services. Her home on the side of the Spruce Mountain in Pendleton, West Virginia was isolated but, it was always welcoming to her, she loved her home just like she love her little family that was soon to be increased by three within a matter of weeks. "I don't know what I'd do without my babies," the woman said out loud and the panther gave a soft guttural response as if he knew what she was saying; the cheetah just nestled closer to the woman and the woman draped a small brown arm around the animal's sleek spotted neck.

Looking out through the wall of glass in the bedroom, the woman watched as the sun made its ritual ascent in the West Virginian sky. _So beautiful, _she thought as she watched in silence as the day replaced the night. Looking out the window made her think of the Boyoma Falls, a rapids waterfall located on the Lualaba River in the Congo. Some referred to it the country as Democratic Republic of the Congo, but she just called it the Congo. _What I wouldn't give to wake up to seeing the last cataract of the Boyoma Falls from my bedroom window,_ she thought to herself as she imagined the crisp cool water falling from a height of 200 feet. The waterfall was a beautiful majestic sight that made Niagara Falls pale in comparison, she sighed thinking of what she'd like to wake up to it in her West Virginia home in the Appalachian Mountains near --.

Rinngggg…

Rinngggg…

She heard the phone ring and she listened, it was late when she go to her home hours earlier and she had no idea where she had put her cellphone._ It could be anywhere_, she thought as she looked around waiting for the cellphone to ring again.

Rinngggg…

Rinngggg… the cellphone sounded again and she looked towards the bathroom door at the small pile of clothing of the floor she had stripped off and slipped out of. Crawling to the foot of the bed, she stepped on to the cool wooden floor and quietly padded to the ring phone, the animals watched her with little concern, they were accustomed to her getting calls all hours of the night and this early in the morning was nothing special to them.

"Hello."

"Hi Cherrie," a male's voice said on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Duke," she started as she rubbed a hand across her face and walked into the bathroom as she tried to stifle a yawn. Now, she would be waking up whether she wanted to or not. "Sorry for not calling you once I got in babe, but I was tired. I stripped and I crawled into bed with my babies, and I just got up," she confessed as she turned on the bathroom light.

"Damn!" she swore then she turned the light off.

"What, what's wrong?" the man asked in a concerned voice.

"I look like shit," she said, turning the water on at the sink.

There was laughing at the other end of the line.

"Now I know why I don't have a man," she said as she placed the cellphone on speaker and laid it on top of the sink. "…he would not want to see me first thing in the morning," she continued and she started laughing too.

"Girl, you know you can have any man you wanted if you just stayed still long enough and decided you wanted to be committed." Duke said as his voice projected clearly from the cellphone. Cherrie looked at the cellphone and rolled her eyes, she wasn't committing to anyone; her work came before any relationship that wanted to tie her down.

"Ain't gonna happen, Duke, you and I both know it. My wheels keep on spinning and nobody can slow them down; there's too much happening in the world for me to stay in one place." She continued, and then she turned the vanity lights on over the sink to a dim setting. _That's better,_ she thought as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red with fatigue. There were bags under her eyes. She hated the morning bags they were a gift from mother, but her strong cheekbones and clear vision she got from her father; a gift from her Native American blood.

Walking over to the shower, the turned on the showerhead to the steam rainforest setting, then she closed the door of double shower so it could steam up nicely and went back to the sink. Opening the medicine cabinet to get her toothbrush and toothpaste out, she paused.

"Duke, why are you calling me this early?" she said looking at the cellphone. "I'm not supposed to be back at work for another two days?"

There was a silence and then the man started to speak.

"I know, Baby Girl," he started, "…but I thought I should call you because I thought you might want to know what's been happening while you were in the Motherland."

_While I was in Africa,_ Cherrie thought, _what could have happened that was so important in the last two weeks that no one thought to tell me, everything is so secretive at Bio-Tel._

"Go on, I'm listening and it better be good. You know I could still be in bed getting some much-needed sleep. I know that jet lag is going to hit me soon and I was trying to tame it before it got me," she said still looking at the phone and trying to determine what Duke thought was so important.

"I really think you want to hear this Baby Girl," Duke said.

"I'm listening," Cherrie said coaxing the man to tell her something instead of holding her hostage with suspense.

"It's hard to say, hard to describe, you have to see it to believe it, have to see it to understand, Cherrie," Duke said not finding the right words to say what he needed to say to the woman.

"What the hell are you talking about Jamar," Cherrie said, she was getting serious because she was calling him by his first name and when she did this she was either serious, upset or both.

Jamar could her the edge in her voice and he knew she was getting upset and he didn't want to upset her because he knew what kind of spitfire she could be especially if she wasn't calmed down immediately or if she felt like something was done intentionally against her; he had known her for fourteen years and in fourteen years he had managed to avert any serious predicaments with her. Cherrie, I can't say it on the phone, I'm about ten minutes away from your house and I'll tell you when I get there," he said, and then he hung up not giving her an opportunity to respond.

"Jamar," Cherrie said picking up the phone, "…Duke!" she continued but there was no response.

_Ten minutes,_ she thought _he'll be here in ten minutes._ Putting the cellphone on the top of the sink and taking off her panties and bra, Cherrie quickly got into the shower and washed.

5


	3. While You Were Gone

-o-o-o-o-o-**3**-o-o-o-o-o-

**While You Were Gone…**

_This is some serious shit,_ Jamar thought to himself as he turned off the main road and down the half-mile dirt road that led to Cherrie's custom hide-a-way bungalow in the side of the Appalachian mountain. He couldn't believe his eyes when he seen it and he still didn't believe what his eyes had seen. Aliens, space creatures, monsters, it was like something out of a Star Wars flick. "But it's real," he said to himself as he parked his black Ford Ram Charger 4 x 4 besides Cherrie's aquamarine Toyota Highlander Hybrid.

As he trotted up the stone steps that were carved into of the mountain that led towards the front door of Cherrie's bungalow, Jamar's mind raced with excitement, he just couldn't believe it, and things didn't seem real. Maybe with Cherrie back she could make sense of things and he could see the realness in it all. Reaching into his jeans pocket to pull out the door key to Cherrie's house. He always had a key to her house no matter where she lived, she trusted him with her cats and her home. Opening the door, he was immediately greeted by Solomon, the black panther. The big cat released a low growl and Jamar stayed still until the animal came over and sniffed him; once the animal recognized that it was him, the cat began to purr. "Hey, big boy," Jamar said as he scratched the cat behind his ears. Cautiously, the cheetah walked up besides Solomon and she joined him in purring. "And good morning, African Queen," Jamar said to the cheetah as she walked up to him and started licking his hand.

"Somebody must be hungry," Jamar said as he walked to the black refrigerator and took out two fresh whole chickens he had purchased from the slaughterhouse the day before. Both cats followed him to the place in the kitchen where they were fed. Everyone knew the routine and it was followed very closely for the most part. As the cats ate the chicken, Jamar emptied their water tin from the day before and put down fresh water. Once he had put a pot of tea on for himself and Cherrie the cats were ready for two more chickens, Sheba was given three chickens since she was eating for four.

Wanting calm in the house, Jamar went to the cupboard that had the ganja in it; he filled two burners with marijuana and set them to a slow burn; placing one in the living room area near the only sofa and leaving the other on the counter near the stove. He needed to relax, walking over to the stereo system; he put in a Bob Marley's _One Love_ CD and brought the volume down low. He started moving his head to the beat, as he walked over to the ganja that was burning near the sofa, inhaled deeply the pungent odor. As a natural response to the inhaling, Jamar's head and his body twitched with delight as the marijuana stimulated him, "yeah mon," he said then he went back to the kitchen to make two mugs of chamomile tea one for himself and the other for Cherrie.

Cherrie smelled the ganja and knew that Jamar had arrived, when she stepped out of the shower, she heard Bob playing on the stereo and knew whatever Jamar had to tell her was deep. He never set the mood unless it was necessary. Quickly she wrapped a towel around her head and dried her body as fast as she could with another; opening up her underwear drawer she grabbed a pair of panties and quickly slid them on; taking her oversized plush aquamarine bathrobe, she wrapped it snuggly around her body and ample hips as she tided the belt tightly in a double knot. She rinsed her mouth out with Listerine because she knew that she hadn't gotten rid of her morning breath even though she had brushed her teeth. Once the rinsing was over she looked at herself in the mirror and nodded her head in approval, she was presentable enough for Duke, after he finished telling her what was so important, she would finishing dressing and start her day.

"Ah, welcome Rasta Brother," Cherrie greeted as she walked over to the tall black man. Jamar scooped Cherrie in his arms and kissed her on both her cheeks and the top of her head, then he released her. She gave him a very strong hug at the waist and she moved to the sofa where she waited for him as she tucked both her feet under her. No part of her could be seen under the large aquamarine robe.

Jamar brought her a mug of chamomile tea with a touch of honey in it. He had his own mug of tea with nothing and he sat on the sofa across from her staring into his mug. There was a long silence between them. Cherrie was anxious, but she said nothing she wanted him to come to her in his own way and tell her the thing that had made him drive an hour and twenty minutes to her home before the sun had risen in the sky.

Bob Marley continued to play low in the background. Solomon and Sheba had finished their breakfast and they both walked over to Cherrie and licked her hand as she stroked their heads, once they were acknowledged, one-by-one they disappeared through the floor at the far side of the room and went outside to do their morning prowling. Cherrie watched as her cats left the house, she didn't worry about them because she knew that they could take care of themselves and she knew that even though Sheba was very pregnant, Solomon would look after her and make sure that nothing happened to her and his cubs.

Turning back to Duke, Cherrie waited for the man to gather his thoughts and speak. Slowly he took a long sip of tea, then he placed on the end table near the sofa and he turned to the slow burning ganja and inhaled deeply. Squeezing his eyes tight, he let the marijuana permeate through him. When he opened his eyes they were starting to turn red. _Shit Duke,_ Cherrie thought, _don't get fucked-up before you tell me what's going on,_ she continued to think as she took a sip and watched him from over her mug.

Finally he spoke.

"Baby Girl, they have some serious shit going on at Bio-Tel and they don't nobody to know about it, but I think that it's something you need to no know," Jamar said when he opened his eyes from his high _ranging_.

"What Rasta Brother," she said keeping her voice calm when she wanted to scream at him and tell him to get to the point. The suspense was eating her alive.

Reaching in his jeans pocket, he fished out his cellphone and went to the camera mode of the phone, He made several clicks and touches on the face of the cellphone before passing it to Cherrie

"You have to see it Baby Girl," Jamar said as he brought up a series of pictures and prepared them as a slide show on his AciaBerry cellphone. Handing the phone over to Cherrie all he said was, "look".

Watching the slide show, all Cherrie could do was stare with her mouth open. She wanted to say something, but no words came out. She didn't know what she was seeing, but she thought that she did. _What the fuck is this?_ She thought, _it looks like a man, then it looks like an animal, and it looks too big to be a man, it looks bigger than Duke…_ came all the thoughts to her mind. _I need to print these out, _she concluded as she got up and turned on her computer and put on the block switch on the computer as it booted up. She didn't want anyone hacking or tapping into her computer while she printed out the pictures from Duke's cellphone. She connected the phone to her computer and she began to print the pictures on the highest quality. She knew it would take a lot of time and a lot of ink, but she didn't care; she wanted everything to be clear on the pictures when she analyzed them.

Once the pictures stared printing, she went back over to the sofa to sit in front of Duke. The man just looked at her with his now blood shot eyes. "Duke, what the hell is that?" she said pointing back to the cellphone.

"I don't know Baby Girl, but it's at Bio-Tel. It's been there for almost two weeks. It looks like some big ass alien Rasta brother. The t'ing makes me look like a little kid and you know how big I am."

"I know," Cherrie, said looking up at the man, she herself was only four feet eleven inches and Duke was six feet nine inches and the thing had to be well over eight feet.

"Is this some sort of sick joke," she started, "because if it is…"

"This is no joke Baby Girl, I promise you," Jamar said interrupting Cherrie. "I saw them when they brought the t'ing in. It was like some raging insane fiend or somet'ing. It was kickin' them military dudes' asses. I t'ink it killed one of them and it messed a whole lot of them up before the beat the shit out of it and pumped it so full of tranquilizers."

"Is it still alive," Cherrie asked with concern as her mind started to churn with possibilities. She got up and collected the first three pictures that were printed. Slowly walking back to the sofa, she gradually sat in the chair as she looked at the printed pictures. She couldn't wrap her mind around what she was seeing. The pictures were stuff you saw in the movies, not something that was brought to your research lab.

"Is it still alive, Duke," she repeated without looking up at the man.

"When I left the lab yesterday it was still alive, but barely, I t'ink that the t'ing is dying and they're just going to let it die." He said shaking his head, "Jonathan is waiting like a vulture for the t'ing to die so he can cut it up and stick it under a microscope."

"Fucking bastard," she spat, "… all he is, is a fucking carrion eater, and he's no scientist," the woman finished. Cherrie despised the work and research that Jonathan did, although at one time she had admired him; even cared for him. Now, all his work and research consisted of working with the dead and developing ways a killing live flesh.

"If you want to study this t'ing, Baby Girl, I suggest you call Abel before the t'ing dies and Jonathan gets his hands on it," Jamar suggested and Cherrie started to nod her head in agreement.

"You're right, I better call Abel."

4


	4. Landing

**Dragh'Ar Ghon the Arbiter**

**Nubian Dragon © 2/2010**

**-o-o-o-o-Chapter 4-o-o-o-o-**

**Landing**

Blackness speckled by light.

Space

Quiet

Patience

The twin galaxies of Pr'Ehon and Zu'heus, as the yautja knew them, faded in the distance as the arbiter's track and retrieval vessel crossed the vast distance of blackness. Space was a vast nothingness, which looked to be vacuum. To the untrained eye, it looked as if the arbiter's vessel was standing still in space. In reality, the elite sleek customized vessel was traveling at a one-quarter speed of light cruising through alien space.

The arbiter wanted to catch the badblood, would catch the badblood, but he wasn't in a desperate rush. The arbiter's ship's tracking sensors were excellent, and there was no fear of losing his prey. After several months of chasing the criminal in open space the ship had picked up the badblood's trail anew. There was freshness about the trail; a freshness that made the photonic emission particles shine as a beacon, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading the arbiter to the badblood. With the new technology the arbiter's vessel had received during its recent up-grade on the Mothership, the arbiter might be delayed getting to his target, but he didn't think he'd lose the trail of the badblood. The electromagnetic energy from the badblood's vessel overpowered the sensor-tracking array of the arbiter's track and retrieval vessel to the point of moving the arbiter in close proximity to the badblood's vessel without being detected, even with long-range scanners.

The arbiter thrilled to himself knowing he would soon have the criminal, impound his vessel and be headed back to the Clan Ship in less than an eighth of a _rotation_, maybe even in a couple of _dre'eks_**, **weeks.

The blackness following the twin galaxies of Pr'Ehon and Zu'heus in time began to give way to specks of light stars. Soon the blackness was dotted with more stars and the sleek vessel began to move into a hazy river of stars that flowed across the darkness as they churned into a beautifully painted strawberry red gas ocean. The sight was magnificent and breath-taking to see, even with the yautja's thermal vision, although natural vision would have yielded a perfect viewing if it was crisper and defined.

Slowing the ship's approach to the hazy river of stars, to sub-impulse power, the arbiter switched the ship to autopilot and began to record the stellar images of the painted strawberry red gas ocean. Relaxing as his ship began to lazily drift through the capricious space that was on the fringe of the backwater planet's galaxy, the arbiter admired the beauty of the cosmos that surrounded him.

When he came to this part of space over thirty years earlier, he had seen the hazy red river of stars, but had not had the opportunity to enjoy it. With the arbiter it was always work and little time to enjoy the surroundings. Now, he wanted to take a quick breather, an hour or two to enjoy this part of space. If he was able to relax for a moment, then he would be rejuvenated and he would do well with his hunt for the badblood. On this third trip to the backwater planet, he would not only enjoy the superb beauty of the painted gas ocean, but he would capture its three-dimensional splendor in holo so he could get pleasure from viewing the gas ocean at his leisure. Remembering it before it was too late, he sent out forward and rear probes to record the strawberry sea of stars to enhance the three-dimensional holoform he was creating to be used in his sleep chamber.

On the fringes of the backwater planet's galaxy was the only place in his vast travels he'd ever seen such a glorious sight. The red gas ocean was a plethora of grandeur; it was a one-of-a-kind experience and he wanted to preserve the moment in the most gratifying substantial way for himself in holo. Most yautja would care little for the gas ocean or the beauty of space, but the arbiter was different. Yautja hunters lived only for the _nain-de_ and the glory that the hunt would bring. The arbiter, on the other hand saw more in the hunt than killing and trophies, he saw art and poetry; as he used his surroundings to enhance the hunt to bring him untold bounty and gratification.

A couple of ooman hours passed and the arbiter's vessel drifted through the two-hundred billion stars of the hazy strawberry red river of lights that swirled and moved in space. The ship was drifting closer to the blue and green planet's galaxy. The yautja's vessel drifted through a thin ban of black space and then coasted into the galaxy of the blue and green planet.

On sub-impulse power, the vessel drifted. The arbiter was in no apparent hurry at the moment; his lock on the badblood's vessel was firm. If the criminal tried to flee, the arbiter would know and would adjust his craft quickly to re-engage the tracking of the badblood's vessel.

"Such an explosive magnificence, so deliciously beautiful," he whispered to himself as he enjoyed the _eye candy _of space. Reclining in his pilot's seat, he sighed deeply and found a place on the control panel to relax his large feet. In silence the yautja savored the hushed brilliance of space. He watched as the rhythms of stellar life unfolded before his eyes. His ship drifted through the dark clouds of dust and gas incubating clusters of embryonic stars that seemed to fade out of existence. Stars were born, lived and died before his eyes. They were a spectacular emission of nebulae blazing in fierce radiation of stellar decay. Dying stars bloomed and faded as planetary nebulae ripped themselves apart as micro supernovas that were dazzling and stunning briefly springing to life.

_So striking, so serene, so calm,_ he thought, as he recalled the probes he had sent out earlier. He hoped that the holographic recording of the strawberry sea of stars would be as awe-inspiring in holoform as it was when he initially experienced it. He wanted to enjoy the hazy river of stars completely as he created the three-dimensional holoform for his sleep chamber. He would wait until after he captured the badblood to enjoy his personal indulgence he was carefully creating for himself. The wait would be well worth it and he wanted to take pleasure in every moment of the _sea of_ _stars_ holoform.

Increasing the speed of the vessel to an eighth of impulse power, the arbiter began an automated probe of the alien solar system so he could gather and send any information that showed signs of life on any of the planets in the small solar system. The information would be logged into the central database of his ship's vessel which would in term stream the data to the Mothership or the Clan Ship, whichever was close to his current location. The arbiter's vessel sent out probes to each planet as he approached it. The initial readings were the same readings he had received over thirty years earlier; no life. There was no life, not even microbial life on any of the other planets in the small system, just the expected life on the planet he was headed towards.

"I'll just let them stay until I leave," the arbiter reasoned to himself. There was no harm in letting the probes gather data, he was in no rush and just maybe something might get recorded if they sat still long enough.

After about a half-human hour or so, the arbiter's track and retrieval vessel passed the silent red planet, _Mars,_ and made its way to the dark-side of the blue and green planet's moon. In silence, the yautjan vessel waited for the opportunity to make its approach towards the blue and green backwater planet. The only planet that held life in the small solar system that held a medium-sized sun at its core. The arbiter checked his sensor array and found that the badblood was still on the planet's surface; there were no electromagnetic energy signatures from the badblood's vessel leading away from the planet.

"It is time," the arbiter said to himself as he changed the settings on the ship's piloting system. He made a charted a direct route towards the electromagnetic energy from the badblood's vessel on the planet's surface. There was no need for stealth, there were no indications he should be concerned about anything else but the badblood. He would make sure his vessel wasn't detected by the blood, and he'd land his craft as close as he could.

Slowly, the Arbiter's vessel began to move from behind the dark-side of the backwater planet's moon. Using caution was his best approach; he wasn't sure if the badblood knew that he was tracking him, he didn't want to spook his prey. If the badblood knew of his approach, then the criminal would flee and the arbiter didn't want the badblood escaping when it had taken him longer than he would have liked to track badblood to the backwater planet.

_Kwei,_ the arbiter thought as he mused over this current badblood. The badblood was tricky and had eluded the arbiter on several occasions and on each occasion he was a step ahead of the arbiter. The arbiter trilled at the badblood being a worthy prey. From time-to–time he enjoyed the thrill of a badblood hunt that challenged him. The more time they took, the more satisfying the capture was for the arbiter. With each evasive act of the badblood, the arbiter had learned a little more about his current assignment. He observed how the criminal thought, what he was capable of and what he would possibly do next. The badblood's movements and other notes were added to the file that Dragh'Ar Ghon had created from the beginning of the assignment. He had been chasing the yautja for nearly three earth years, almost a full turn. Three years was a little longer than he would have liked to chase the badblood, but it was an excellent opportunity to learn the mind of another and the arbiter thought that the badblood deserved merit for the chase that he gave. As a hunter, the arbiter prided himself in his knowledge, how he obtained it and how he used it. His knowledge and observation had helped him on numerous occasions and had assisted him in capturing some of the most elusive among the badbloods. Now, he was expanding his knowledge to include a new breed of badblood that his current assignment was proving to be.

Thinking about the badblood's vessel, the arbiter wasn't sure of the craft's technology. There was no outward indicator of whether or not the vessel had long-range or external detection devices. He didn't know if he'd be able to sneak up on the criminal undetected, he didn't know if the badblood had a boost surveillance tracking system on his craft, but he didn't want to take the chance of alerting the badblood of his approach. The arbiter's own vessel had been recently up-graded with technology that would block being scanned by other vessels, especially vessels that had the currently upgraded yautja boost surveillance tracking system. Dragh'Ar Ghon didn't think he'd have a problem locating the badblood's vessel on the planet's surface, but he would use prudence and patience. The two had served him well in the past and he had confidence they would serve him now. He would be patient and capture the badblood the way he has always did, despite the length or pursuit.

Vigilantly the arbiter drew closer to the blue and green planet. He didn't think the oomans had any technology that could detect his ship in the upper atmospheric space of the planet, but his senses told him to be alert. _One never knows,_ he thought as he turned to his _gkinmaru, _the sensors of a ship, to activate the short-range scanners. Much to the arbiter's surprise, after five minutes of being on, four small red dots appeared on the tracking console screen.

"So the oomans have been busy," he said to himself as he watched the small red dots blipped in and out of sight against the blackness of the console's screen. "We'll just have to see what you pyode amedha have been up to in the last thirty years," he commented as he sent out four recon-intelligence probes to investigate what the four blips on his screen were. The blips in space were of minor concern to him; he would collect the probes once he collected the badblood. The arbiter was curious as to what gains the oomans has made in one hundred and twenty of their years. That was the last time any yautja had official permission to go to the planet. One hundred and twenty years ago he had collected his last badblood from the planet.

About thirty minutes had passed and the arbiter decided it was time to land on the planet's surface. He had checked the tracking of the badblood's vessel and it had shown that he criminal was still located in the northwestern hemisphere of the planet. _Time to collect you, Roah' Saun, _the arbiter thought as he prepared to make his descent. On the forward screen of the ship, the arbiter saw the blackness of space give way to the white mist of the planet's upper atmosphere the transition from space made him think about the red dots on the tracking console screen. Thinking about the blips, he had seen earlier, he wondered what type of technology the pyode amedha had advanced to since last he had been on the backwater planet. _What kind of surprises you will yield, ooman, _he thought as he smiled with his mandibles opening and slightly twitching.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

The arbiter's track and retrieval vessel streamlined through the planet's upper atmosphere on sub-impulse power as it cut through the very thin layer of the planet's exosphere like a knife slicing through butter. Only briefly did the arbiter's vessel glide through the region of the atmosphere where atoms and molecules escape into space. Entering the exosphere of the planet was like breaking the surface of a pond. Smoothly the yautjan vessel continued as it pierced through the low air density of the planet's thermosphere, so far so good. All was well and the arbiter didn't have to cloak his vessel.

The time was at hand and the hunt for the badblood would be over. He had made great time tracking the criminal even though he had lost the badblood on two occasions. There was no fear of losing his prey because the technologically enhanced yautja vessel was quite capable of giving the arbiter the range and equipment he needed to be successful.

_Hunting_, he thought as he thrilled at the idea. It had been a while since he lasted hunted and what better place to hunt than on one of the rarely used chiva planets of his people.

The yautja's mind began to think about his return to the blue and green backwater planet along with the new things he would experience on his recreational hunt. Now, the arbiter was past the need to gather trophies to attract females. As a youngblood he had made collecting a game for seduction. A game that he became expert at when he was newly blooded up until the time he became honored. He knew of all the prime hunting grounds and he also had some planets to hunt on that were exclusive to him. His exotic trophies and the scars that he had gained to get the trophy always attracted the more premier females for mating to him. And like always the strongest female that was left standing became his mate.

"Ahhh…" he began as he checked the readings on the gkinmaru, the sensors on his ship, monitoring the badblood's location, "…work before pleasure." This meant he had to capture and deliver the badblood before he could seriously think and plan a trip for hunting oomans.

"Maybe these oomans have not advanced as I had suspected," Dragh'Ar Ghon mused to himself as his ship passed through the third layer of the planet's atmosphere.

As his vessel began its descent in to the planet's third level of atmosphere, the mesosphere, the arbiter engaged the external dampers on the ship so they could initiate the protective shield on the ship and protect the vessel from burning and exploding in this layer of the planet's atmosphere. Although the planet was backwater, it was endowed with ways of naturally protecting itself from any threats that would ignorantly try to land on it.

_Almost there,_ he thought as his vessel continued to descend.

When the yautjan vessel reached twenty kilometers from the planet's surface, the arbiter received a rude awakening. "Pauk!" the arbiter swore loudly as he heard something explode against the hull of his ship.

"What the hell is going on?" he roared as another explosion hit the side of his ship. Reaching for the ship's console, he turned on the main view screen.

Much to his surprise he was flanked by alien crafts. "So, you backwater pauks can fly," the arbiter, growled as he cloaked his vessel.

A third explosion slammed into the rear of his craft.

"So, I am surrounded," he said as he opened the ship's _Data' Shon'de_ scanners so he could inspect his immediate surroundings. The scanners would allow several thermal ground-tracking techniques to be used so the yautja could bypass any radar tracking that could be jammed by the oomans. As he scanned to see how he was surrounded, the arbiter prepared to send out _small pebbles recon nascence probes _the size of a golf ball to attach themselves to the alien crafts. "We'll have to see exactly what you are," he said once he got a count of seven crafts that were surrounding him.

Hitting the send-all lever for the seven probes, the arbiter thrilled in laughter as he accelerated his craft forward making a sixty-degree angled turn that propelled him upward into space. Protecting his vessel as it quickly cut through all four layers of the planet's atmosphere, the arbiter roared excitedly. "And so the oomans have evolved!"

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Charlie, Alpha, Tango… Charlie, Alpha, Tango… the primary shift dispatch officer said over the broadband stellar communication uplink in surprise as he watched the Western Coastal Meteorological Defense Surveillance tracking grid in disbelief.

All fourteen members of the morning surveillance team watched the unbelievable spectacle on the wall-sized grid screen in front of them. Obviously this was not a test or a drill because they could see their commander was upset and knew as much as they did what was happening.

There was no response for the craft.

The primary dispatch officer was trying to make contact with the vessel that had suddenly appeared in US aerospace. Like magic it appeared to just pop up in the earth's mid-stratosphere. From nowhere the craft had appeared and the dispatch officer didn't know what to think so he executed the basic initial communication procedure to see if the craft was friendly, and would engage in contact.

"What the fuck is that," the senior communications officer said as she too watched the large screen of the Meteorological Defense Surveillance tracking grid. She went quiet as her eyes watched the red blip on the grid descend as if it were on a leisurely drive in the countryside.

The techs began to mumble among themselves, but no one offered an explanation for the lone dot that moved across the surveillance grid.

Whatever it was, it didn't seem as if it were in a hurry and it seemed to be very much in control of what it was doing and where it was going. It was getting closer to the eastern coast of the United States.

"I don't know sir. It's non-responsive; and whatever it is, it's coming straight towards the east coast. It looks like it's making a beeline for Virginia or the DC area, if my calculations are correct," the junior officer said as he continued to stare at the Defense Surveillance tracking grid in disbelief. "I'm not sure if it came from space or if it was launched from earth, sir, but where ever it came from it just popped up on the grid without warning."

The commander of the West Coast Meteorological Defense Surveillance System groaned softly in agitation. She didn't like when things, just happened, nothing just happened. There was a beginning and end to everything and she was determined to find either or both for this new anomaly that had the nerve to suddenly appear in her aerospace while she was on duty.

"Get the East Coast Meteorological Defense Surveillance on the Greenline," the female said, agitated at being thrown into a sudden ignorance. "I want to speak directly to General Welsh. I only want to speak to him, no one else," the female barked as she peered closer at the tracking grid watching the single red dot continued to move across the grid on a specific trajectory.

A couple of the techs lingered too long at the grid and were immediately snapped out of their daze when they heard their superior clear her throat loudly with a _"don't you have something to do", _sound. Satisfied that her team was back at their workstations and working to decipher what the anomaly on the grid was, she turned her attention back to the primary shift dispatch officer.

"Will do sir," the junior officer responded as he snapped to his superior's order. This was exciting for the young man, they probably had made contact with extraterrestrial life and he was the first to discover it. His mind was changed now from wanting to leave his post early. He could spend time with his girlfriend later; now, he wanted to know what had just paid a visit to earth.

"How long have you've been tracking this?" the female asked turning to the primary shift dispatch officer who was staring at the Meteorological Defense Surveillance grid as he began to put the Greenline call in to the East Coast Meteorological Defense Surveillance Station.

Making sure they stayed focused on their different tasks, the techs tried to make themselves invisible as they watched the tracking grid. They didn't want any unnecessary attention drawn to themselves by their commander. They wanted to be a part of what was happening, but they didn't want their superior's irritation to be rekindled. The uncompromising woman had not recovered from her foul mood of having to face an unscheduled audit of the facility at the beginning of week.

"It's been about seven minutes now, sir," the dispatcher said, "… at first I wasn't sure of what I saw until I tracked the movement for a couple of minutes." The dispatcher wanted to be sure he was seeing what he thought he saw before the thing was brought to attention of his superior. He didn't want any false alarms, false alarms meant firing. There was no room for incompetence in the Meteorological Defense Surveillance System.

_Seven minutes,_ the woman mused as she wanted to lash out at her subordinate, but she couldn't because the man was doing his job. She could respect him wanting to do the right thing and make sure there were no mistakes. She could respect him, but it did nothing to change the fact that she didn't know who or what was getting closer to the country's capital area.

"General Welsh is on the Greenline sir," the male said as he looked at his superior officer. He got up and gave his headset to the woman as he walked back to his tracking station and got his spare headset and connected to the communication's port in front of him.

"Is the comlink open?" the woman asked the male as she continued to watch the grid.

"Link open sir," the male replied as he affixed his eyes back to the large screen in front of him. He smiled in triumph as he watched the red dot continued on the course he had predicted it would travel; the non-responsive craft was flying towards the nation's capital.

"Mr. Tate, continue your attempt to make contact with the non-responsive craft," the female said as she turned her attentions to the Greenline call her subordinate had made for her.

"Yes sir," Tate said eagerly wanting desperately to make first contact with the non-responsive craft; he was sure it was alien.

"General Welsh, we have tracked a non-responsive craft descending in the atmosphere over the east coast. Several attempts have been made to contact the craft, but as of this moment there has been no response," the female said as she walked away from Tate who had quickly turned his attention away from her and back to the tracking grid.

There was a silence on the other end and the female waited for General Welsh to respond.

"General Welsh," the woman repeated the name of her senior counterpart on the east coast. "General, are you tracking this?" the woman asked knowing that the East Coast Meteorological Defense Surveillance Station was doing the same surveillance and tracking they were doing on the west coast.

"Yes, Colonel Scott," a deep grandfatherly voice began, and the woman visually relaxed. "We've started tracking about five minutes ago when it came up on our grid," the man continued as if he was giving the sudden phenomenon great thought.

The woman looked at her time piece at her wrist; _we're six minutes ahead of you,_ she thought knowing that the West Coast Meteorological Defense Surveillance Station had seen the non-responsive craft a solid six minutes before it was tracked on the east coast.

"It's non-responsive," Colonel Scott began, "…tried to make contact, but it was a negative."

"No contact as of yet," General Welsh said with concern creeping in his voice.

"Do you think it's Russian Federation?" Colonel Scott asked as she saw the red dot on the grid draw closer to the nation's capital

"Not sure, haven't seen anything like it, we've been hailing it in all known languages, but no response as of yet," the General said knowing the non-responsive craft was an aggressor and force would be used.

"Do you have a Defense Surveillance strike force in the air, General?" Colonel Scott asked; also knowing the non-responsive craft had proved itself to be aggressive because of its failure to communicate. She knew she would have to ready the West Coast Defense Surveillance strike force if the aggressor moved off range of the east coast or anywhere near the central part of the country.

"The strike force should be intercepting the craft in about five minutes," the General confirmed.

Colonel Scott nodded her head in agreement with the General. It was better to shoot first and ask questions later, especially if you tried talking already. "What level of security alert are we on?" she asked knowing that there was a primary security alert level that was mandated to be issued by the senior office of the Meteorological Defense Surveillance System and he was that senior officer.

"We should know something soon, Colonel," the General said not wanting to speak hastily or make a hasty decision.

The Colonel also knew that prudence was needed by the General because he would be making a decision that would impact not just his department, but the entire country and possibly the entire planet. He didn't want to get the government in an uproar over nothing; he would make the necessary decisions assessing the situation as it developed.

"Keep me posted. Let me know if the vessel is fired upon, General," Colonel Scott said as she went over to her primary shift dispatch officer to give him back his headset. It was time for her to act in concert with her east coast counterpart so they could successfully control and contain the potential threat to the national security of the United States. "We're expanding our Defense Surveillance on the west coast and readying our attack force; we'll be ready if the non-responsive craft changes its current trajectory."

There was a silence on the other end of the line and Colonel Scott waited for General Welsh to respond.

"The non-responsive craft has been fired upon," the General said finally.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

The sudden retreat to the dark-side of the planet's moon was hasty but necessary. Dragh'Ar Ghon had under estimated the oomans, had thought them to be still crawling around in the mud and cowering to yautja, but they weren't. They had achieved flight and had challenged him on their terms. The soft meats had attacked him and chased him from their planet. Although he had thrilled at the thought of hunting the oomans, he knew he had not come to the backwater planet to hunt ooman, but rather badblood.

_There will be time for hunting,_ he thought as he returned his craft to sub-impulse power and waft in silence on the dark-side of the moon.

He would return to earth and he would hunt ooman, soon enough, but for now he had to see what he was up against and how he would get to the surface of the planet undetected by both the badblood and the oomans.

Calling back the probes he had dispatched prior to entering the planet's atmosphere, the arbiter began to search the data that had already been downloaded into his ship's central database. As he sifted through the information, he saw that the oomans had been very busy since he had last been on the planet. From what he could gather from the vast amount of information that was collected in such a short period of time, the oomans had advanced. The information showed that the oomans had gone through several sporadic moments of growth and development in different areas of their civilization. From what he could see, the pyode amedha were currently in a technological stage of growth. This would account for them being able to surround and attack him in the air.

In a matter of thirty of their earth years, they had created, developed, built and maintained a planetary means of communication. The ooman's mode of communication wasn't the most sophisticated way to communicate, but he knew their simple success, should be counted as something. Time pass and he continued to study portions of information from the probe that would prove useful when he returned to the surface.

His efforts of studying the advances of the oomans lasted half-day of orbit just on the dark-side of the planet's moon. After taking in all the pertinent information that would be helpful to him, the arbiter devised a plan that would allow him to descend on the planet's surface undetected. He needed stealth now that his element of surprise was taken away, and he had the perfect plan that would make him successful.

Learning from his first attempt to land on the planet, the arbiter chose an indirect route to the northwestern hemisphere of the planet. He would enter the planet's atmosphere from the southeastern hemisphere targeting the largest continent in that region of the planet. When he scanned the area he couldn't detect any sophisticated aerial detection devices; which meant the area had less in terms of sensors and probes that could detect the movement or approach of his vessel. He would sneak in the _backdoor_ and quietly go where he needed to go and no one would be the wiser.

Once the arbiter had successfully piloted his vessel to the lowest atmospheric level of the planet, he maintained the ship's cloak and opened the vessel's sensors to a wide-medium range of scan so he could be proactive rather than reactive. He wanted to be prepared for any encounters with the oomans. It is his intent to avoid them if he could. His task was hunting the badblood, not engaging the oomans in the hunt. If by chance he encountered the oomans and engagement has the only option, he would make sure was no evidence of the encounter left behind.

Checking the ship's recon-surveillance tracking system as he approached the northwestern landmass that was his prime landing sight, he wanted to know beforehand that there would be no problem with the general landing area. Confirming all was safe, the arbiter typed in the coordinates for landing his vessel; Latitude: 37° 10'N to 40° 40'N – Longitude: 77° 40'W to 82° 40' W. This was on the eastern coast of the large continent in the northwestern hemisphere. _The landing coordinates corresponded with the Appalachian mountains of West Virginia. _Although the landing site was not exactly where the badblood was, it was close enough that the arbiter could manage the trek to his final destination.

Using the planet's natural geography, elements and weather to aid him in his stealth landing on the planet's surface, the arbiter hovers over the ocean's surface. As the yautjan vessel hovers over the Atlantic Ocean and waits for the cover of _guan,_ night, the arbiter's vessel remains cloaked. The night would be the only successful option the arbiter had if he had intentions of getting to his intended location on land. If they couldn't see his ship, then they couldn't interfere with what he was doing. He wondered if the badblood had had as much of a problem as he did trying to land on the planet's surface.

Time passed and darkness fell.

Checking his sensors to monitor the position of the criminal's vessel, the arbiter was satisfied that the badblood had not moved. "The criminal must be planning something, maybe hunting in a well populated area…" the arbiter said to himself as he told the computer of his ship to search for an acceptable landing spot. It was clear to the arbiter that the badblood had come to the planet to do some unauthorized hunting, which meant he had broken Yautja Code.

The most feasible place to land and camouflage the yautjan vessel was in a remote place about thirteen hundred meters from the tip of the highest peak of the mountain range that ran south easterly in a diagonal direction in the Appalachian mountains. This place was isolated and rarely used by humans. Because its isolation, it was difficult to get to and had thick vegetation surrounding it. _Prefect,_ he thought thrilling at the location, the arbiter was pleased with the computer's selection. The natural foliage of the area was thick and he was glad that only a few trees had been downed to make the landing a success. _This will be the primary site for now,_ he thought as he readied himself and made sure that his vessel would be properly cloaked while it was in hibernation mode.

After sending out probes to gather information in a five mile radius of his vessel's location and checking the stability of the surface that the ship rested on, the arbiter decided to start the hunt for his badblood prey. The most recent coordinates for the badblood's vessel placed the criminal about a little over one hundred miles from his current location to the south east of the ship's current location. The only land area after the badblood's ship location was about a couple of miles of land then the water of the planet was after that.

Satisfied with what he had to do, Dragh'Ar Ghon typed in the command on his wrist console which put his vessel on remote-autopilot so he could call the vessel to come to him when he is ready for it to leave its current location. The arbiter checked his _awu'asa_ to make sure he had everything that he needed for retrieval of the badblood, he wore full gold _awu'asa_, but he took lightweight weapons instead of selecting his plasma caster. The method of retrieval was sedation, first, but force if necessary, so he made sure he had enough darts filled with enough sedative to take down the full-grown yautja. He dressed with just enough weapons and accessories; he also donned the _Whu'tang active camouflage _prototype, a new cloaking device he had the honors of testing. Just enough gear to do the job, there was no need for overkill; less was more for the arbiter. Sensing that this would be no simple retrieval, the arbiter added a couple of extra refills of breathing mixtures incase he was gone from his vessel a little longer than he had expected.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Under the cover of night he moved. The arbiter was in close enough range that he could follow the silent remote homing signal embedded in the metal hull of the badblood's vessel. The homing signal was a unique sonar signature that was assigned to each yautja-made vessel. The sonar flakes were embedded during the vessels construction. They were a security device that was used only by the Arbitrator system as a means of securing yautja technology, should a vessel ever become lost. The only groups that were privy to the existence of such a tracking device for vessels were the Yautja Builder clan and the Yautja Arbitrator system.

"Soon, I shall set upon you, _Roah' Saun,_" the arbiter said growing tired of the cat and mouse chase. The badblood had made him risk detection, well… that could be his own fault for under estimating the oomans; but the arbiter was able to salvage the situation and reduce any damage that had been done. The careless detection had occurred because the badblood had chose to go to the off-limits planet to hunt. The arbiter's quick thinking and resourcefulness had made him successful at losing the slow oomans and giving him an opportunity to gather intelligence on them.

As he moved on foot towards the state of Virginia in the direction of the beacon's homing signal, the arbiter laid down a trail. The yautja began to leave markings for his return route so he could easily find his way back to his vessel if he was not able to remotely call his ship to him. Every two miles, or so, he would leave a small transmitting device about the size of an American quarter embedded in a tree or a solid surface that would hold or encase it. With his helm he would be able to easily detect the markings as he approached and passed them. The sonar transmitters were self-contained in that they would function as needed and self-destruct on the arbiter's command.

Every twenty-five to thirty miles, the arbiter would search for a large secluded clearing and place seven temporary micro docking points marking for an alternate site of landing where he could call his cloaked ship to perch. As an alternate plan of retreat he could summon his vessel to the location while it was in autopilot mode; it would make his escape less complicated. All this would come in time when needed by the arbiter. Over the years of tracking badbloods Dragh'Ar Ghon found that having enough viable retreat routes was the best defense for any offense that could be countered. _Always have a way out,_ he mused in his head as he continued to draw closer to his badblood target.

Three-quarters of a _score _hour_,_ eight earth hours, passed and the arbiter had come within a one-mile radius of the badblood, under the cover of night. Before he arrived in the vicinity of the badblood's location, he had marked six alternate landing sites for his track and retrieval vessel.

Pleased with the excellent time he made getting to the badblood, Dragh'Ar Ghon attributed his speed and agility to the fact that he keeps himself in peak condition by running climbing, and swimming, the arbiter trilled with satisfaction. He was in his prime and he still moved like a youngblood, the only difference between himself and a youngblood was that he was wiser. A rumble of approval resonated deep in his chest; in order to do his job, he had to be in top physical condition and form. There was no backup, no one to rely on, just the arbiter and his experience. He couldn't let anything get in the way of his success; he had to be better than the criminal he was chasing, or he would fail and he never failed.

_Observe and avoid,_ the arbiter thought as he approached what looked to the beginning of a heavily populated ooman area. The thirst of the hunt was calling him, but he ignored it. _Work before pleasure, _he reminded himself. The alien surroundings were coming alive and so was his _huntlust_. "Focus," Dragh'Ar Ghon said as a reprimand. He was an honored warrior and an arbiter, not some impulsive youngblood who needed to hunt for glory or hunting to build a fledgling trophy collection.

As he approached what looked to be some sort of dwelling, the arbiter slowed his pace deliberate and checked his wrist console to see if the badblood had moved his vessel. The vessel still had not moved even after over a score of hours of being in the same place; the arbiter was glad for this. If the yautja decided to move suddenly, then the arbiter's plans for tracking and capture would be ruined. He always asked Paya to give luck to his side when he tracked badbloods. There were moments when only Paya could do what needed to be done, things he could not do to make him successful.

"So a hunt is what you've come for, _Roah' Saun_," the arbiter whispered as he turned off the three-dimensional projection from his wrist console. This was the reason the badblood had not fled the planet as of yet he would be doing some hunting, but for what? It was evident to the arbiter that the badblood was not aware of his presence on the planet, or he would have left hours ago. The hunt did have the makings to quench a yautja's thirst to hunt, but the badblood didn't seem to be stupid enough to risk capture for a few skulls. "Who is your prey, _Roah' Saun,_" the arbiter said to the badblood who was not around to answer.

Taking a moment to peer into the window of the ooman dwelling, the arbiter saw a small group of oomans of different sizes and ages. It looked as if there were _half-score, _six, oomans and they were sitting in front of a broad flat screen that was mounted on one of the walls in the large room of the dwelling. The broad flat screen had images of oomans talking, laughing and doing things on it. _So primitive,_ he thought as he moved away from the dwelling.

Although the oomans dressed differently than they had one hundred and twenty of their years earlier and now lived in different dwellings, they were still the same, weak and useless. _Maybe not all of them, _came a thought. There were those oomans who had attacked him in the sky. Those oomans seemed to be progressive, despite the fact they were still pathetic. They had no air superiority, yet they had the blessing of Paya on them because he had not come to their planet to hunt them. Had it not been for the fact he was hunting the badblood, he would have destroyed all seven of the air vessels that attacked him. He would have destroyed them in the sky and there would not have been a trace left of them. They would have learned the lesson of respecting who and what he was; yautja and arbiter.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Deeper Dragh'Ar Ghon moved into the populated setting and the area began to come alive with noise, lights, smells and activity. "Must find the ship," the arbiter said knowing that time was running out and the light of day for the planet would soon be coming. He had to find the badblood's vessel so he could create a tracking link to the badblood's helm. This connection to the criminal's helm would be fed through his ship's computer so the criminal could be tracked remotely by the arbiter.

As he moved closer to the badblood's ship, the arbiter sent out mini intelligence gathering probes in the immediate area to gain additional information on the oomans. The oomans had definitely advanced since last he was on the planet and he knew the council would want to know as much as they could about the pyode amedhas' development while being left to themselves. He was sure that after they received his thorough report, they would decide the oomans had become worthy prey and would allow more hunting to take place on the planet. The easing of hunting restriction to the planet may in fact quench the thirst of hunters so they would not break Code and become badblood. There was no doubt the pyode amedha had evolved to be worthy, he had gotten a firsthand sampling with the surprised aerial attack which would also be included in his report to the Grand Arbiter as well as the _Council of Elders_.

Finally, the arbiter arrived at the source of the homing device's signal, which was embedded in the structure of the badblood's vessel. The yautjan vessel was on the east side of the ooman's city, cloaked and secure. It rested quietly in what looked to be an abandoned construction site that appeared to be properly secured. To the naked eye, the sight looked derelict and deserted, but with his helm, the arbiter could see clearly the small yautjan vessel. The small craft was about the size of two elongated ooman transports that ferried many short distances on a prescribed route of travel, _city bus_, that were attached end-to-end. The height of the vessel was about three of the buses stacked horizontally on top of each other. Immediately he did a scan of the ship to see if the yautja was inside. Much to his dismay, the badblood was not on the ship nor was he anywhere in the vicinity. The arbiter let out a restrained groan, now he would have to work a little harder to find his target.

"_Chu'khah_," the arbiter whispered to himself knowing the craft wasn't something that was owned by a common blooded hunter. The vessel was expensive and only someone of honored status; an elder or a member of the High Council owned such a craft. From what the arbiter could discern of _Roah' Saun_, the yautja, had not reached honored status so he must be the offspring of an elder or a member of the High Council.

_Pauking brat,_ the older yautja thought, _that's why I can't bring your head back, your sire or bearer is protecting you._ Dragh'Ar Ghon didn't like it when the pups of those with power received leniency, it wasn't right. A badblood was a badblood as far as he was concerned, which meant there would be no discrepancy in the law.

The arbiter had explicit orders from the Grand Arbiter of his clan to bring back the badblood alive. After years of chasing the criminal and requesting an amendment to his track and retrieval orders, Dragh'Ar Ghon finally knew why the amendment was denied. It would have been so easy to execute the criminal, but instead he had to handle the badblood with tactful hands.

Looking up at the barbed wire at the top of the fenced area, the arbiter tried to gauge how high the fencing was. _About twenty-five noks,_ he thought to himself as he looked for a safe place to enter the enclosed area. Not seeing what he was looking for, the arbiter moved several yards away from the fence and gave himself a running start. At the right moment, the arbiter leapt over thirty feet from the ground as he bounded over the top of the barbed wire clearing the fence with ease. Quietly with the stealth of a ninja, the yautja landed on one knee.

Once on the other side of the fence, the arbiter cloaked and walked to the ship. He typed in several codes into his wrist console and up-linked to the badblood's computer hacking it with the master code used by arbiters. Within several minutes he had gotten a lock on the badblood's location.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

The dawn of the new morning began to rise and the arbiter stirred in his resting on the rooftop of one of the buildings not far from the badblood's vessel. He wanted to stay close to the cloaked ship in case the criminal returned, but he didn't want to be too close that he would be spotted.

From his secure perch on the building's rooftop, the arbiter was able to rest. He had expended a lot of energy to make his trek from his vessel to the badblood's vessel and now he needed rest a bit. Before closing his eyes to enjoy his time in rest, the arbiter activated his early warning detection system in his helm that would alert him to the badblood's presence within one thousand noks of him. Satisfied and cloaked, the arbiter began to rest.

Allowing himself to take rest in the open, would let the sun of the planet to replenish the micro energy filament cells contained in the _Whu'tang_ active camouflage. The cloaking device contained thousands of micro panels that converted solar rays into energy to power the camouflage. As the cloak regenerated itself, it warmed the hunter. The glowing sun bathed the arbiter in delight as he basked in its radiance.

Several ooman hours passed and the arbiter finished his rest. The backwater planet's sun was now sitting high in its blue sky and it reminded the arbiter of his home world. Reminded him of how in his youth, he would bask in the high branches of his family's tree dwelling and drink up the rays of the planet's twin suns. There were times when he would stay in the treetops far longer than he should, enjoying both suns; later he'd pay for his greed with excruciating sunburn. Now, the ooman's planet's single sun did not have the strength of half of one of the suns on his home world, but the warmth felt good on his hide. _I could learn to like this_, the arbiter thought to himself as he permitted his mind and senses to adjust to the alien surroundings.

Ironically, like the dawn of a new day, the surroundings came to life. The sounds of life in the ooman city rose up from the lower levels and startled him. Let him know that he was not of the peaceful yet dangerous planet of his birth, nor did it remind him of the precariousness of the Mothership or the Clan Ship; it was indeed a strange place. The backwater planet was stranger even than he had remembered it one hundred and twenty ooman years ago. The arbiter mused lightly at the thought and thanked Paya for the opportunity to rejuvenate; now, he was ready to hunt the badblood.

Letting out a low growl when he heard the silent alarm for the badblood in his helm activate; Dragh'Ar Ghon knew it was back to work. The badblood was on the move and was near. Pausing, he switched his helm's vision to the tracking mode to get a visual fix on the badblood. The yautja was moving away from the cloaked vessel. _Pauk_, the arbiter thought. The shifty badblood had slipped past him and entered his vessel, left the vessel and was now on a rooftop that was about a _score_ building away. The arbiter crept closer closing the distance between them to half-a-score buildings. Now, vigilant and silent, the arbiter waited for the criminal to make his move.

A couple of ooman hours later, the arbiter realized the badblood was waiting for the cover of _guan_ to hunt. The arbiter would also wait for the cover of night to capture the badblood. Waiting for darkness would lead to less eyes seeing and knowing that yautja existed.

Zooming in his visual mode in his helm, the arbiter gasped as he watched the badblood leap to the next building and climb down its side and go through a window that was on the seventeenth level. Moving closer, the arbiter switched the vision on his helm to x-ray to see what was inside the room the badblood had entered.

In horror, the arbiter caught his breath when he saw a smaller form also in the room. The form was ooman and definitely female. He let out a low growl as he watched the badblood move towards the female as she collapsed; the yautja caught her before she hit the ground.

A deep growl resonated in his chest while his mandibles clicked in an agitated fashion behind his helm as his chest rose in anger. "Pauking idiot," he said as he landed on the next building and then moved to the one that the badblood had been waiting on before he went into the female's dwelling.

He hoped the yautja was not so stupid as to add _Mating with the Unworthy_, to his crimes against the _**Code**_. If the yautja had done this thing, then there would be no mercy for him; and under the _**Code**_, his sir or bearer's request for _honored consideration_ was moot. He would die the death and only his head would be brought to the Council. It would be unfortunate, but the female would die also. He could not, would not risk the badblood leaving his seed to grow inside the female. The arbiter hated killing the innocent, but there was no innocent in the code of _Mating with the Unworthy_. Those involved, willing or not suffered the same fate. This part of the _**Code**_ he did not like, but the _**Code **_was not for him to like, but to enforce.

"I will watch and see," he said, giving mercy to the ooman.

He didn't want to jump to any conclusion; acting without any proof lead to costly mistakes. Over time, the arbiter had learned to be prudent and patient, this was unusual for a yautja, but time and reason had seasoned him. His prudence and patience, allowed his wisdom to guide him in the turn of events while he chose the best method of handling the delicate situation. Watching the badblood's action with the visor's x-ray setting, the arbiter watched the yautja as he laid the female on some type of surface that was raised from the ground. He watched as the badblood moved away from the female noticing that she did not stir. _She must be unconscious,_ the arbiter assumed; then he took his attention back to the badblood. He watched the badblood as he moved to a certain spot in the room and stared at a place on the wall for a period of time. About half an ooman hour passed and the badblood climbed out the female's window and then scaled to the top of the building and started to jump from building to building.

"C'jit!" the arbiter swore.

The badblood was on the move and he had to make a choice. He could follow the badblood and capture him now or he could check on the female and see if the badblood broke the code of _Mating with the Unworthy_. He decided to check the female and then catch up with the badblood.

Once inside the female's dwelling, he had discovered she was indeed unconscious, he checked the female's body to see if there were any injuries, but none were present. All he could see was a tiny prick and a trickle of blood running down the ooman's neck. He turned on the thermal vision in his helm and viewed the abdomen of the female. Satisfied there was no heat signature in the female's abdomen, the arbiter turned to the wall to see what had held the badblood's attention. "Ahhh," he said to himself looking at the broad flat screen, "…some sort of communication device," he reasoned. On the flat screen the arbiter saw many oomans that looked to be at some type of festive gathering. The oomans had the look of importance about them and he could see that they were surrounded by other oomans that carried weapons.

After seeing the sight, the arbiter let out a low growl and pushed his huntlust away.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

From rooftop to rooftop the arbiter leapt, taking up his chase of the badblood making sure to stay at least three buildings behind the criminal. So far during the pursuit, the criminal only turned occasionally to survey the surroundings behind him. On one such occasion, the arbiter was standing on a rooftop three buildings behind the badblood in plain sight. The arbiter froze in his tracks, remembering how the cloaking device worked. The arbiter watched as the badblood's eyes roved over him, but did not see him. The _Whu'tang active camouflage_, a new modified prototype active camouflage had shielded the arbiter from the badblood's view. It was strong enough to deflect even the newest technology of sensor implants in helms for tracking. So far this was the only cloak of its kind and the arbiter wanted it to be well worth the research and construction given to it.

_Thank Paya, the cloaking device is working,_ the arbiter thought as the badblood started his running again. The yautja scientist said that the _whu'tang_ is designed so not even yautja helms could read the wearer's heat signature or see the wearer provided the wearer remained perfectly still, the arbiter thought remembering the briefing he had received on the cloaking device. The new cloaking device was designed to render the wearer virtually invisible to all yautja visual modes. The light bending mechanism in the camouflage not only bends the reflexive light creating invisibility, but it solidifies a wall around the wearer so shimmers and ripples are not produced to outline the wearers form. So far the prototype was doing what it was designed to do and the arbiter was pleased.

Turning to resume his sprint to his intended destination, Roah' Saun, the badblood did not notice the arbiter had been standing clearly in front of him. His stealth made him feel secure even though something kept him alert to his surroundings. His eyes and helm had told him nothing was afoot, but his senses said otherwise. It had been while since his rebellion against both his bearer and his sire; he had not encountered even one arbiter from the Clan Ship or the Mothership. Because he had no encounter, his confidence was high. He felt free to continue his rebellious rampage and do what he wanted. There would be no consequences; on the backwater planet he would hunt as he pleased and to hell with the _**Code.**_

Watching the badblood leap to several buildings before he decided to take up the chase again, the arbiter jumped silently to the next building. The yautja moved cautiously keeping the criminal in his sites. The arbiter noticed the badblood seemed suspicious, but there was also confidence in the way the younger yautja moved, like he was challenging.

The dusk of night was beginning to fall and Dragh'Ar Ghon could hear the ooman city start to come alive. The sounds were everywhere. The sounds of the night were different from those of the day, it was as if the place had been asleep and now it was waking from its slumber. Sharp piercing sounds could be heard beneath him on the ground below and in the distance. Alien and unnatural sounds screeched and screamed coming from different directions. The noise called to him, wanted him to investigate them, but he had the badblood to retrieve first. _Work before pleasure,_ he reminded himself again for the umpteenth time. The draw of the hunt was strong, but his work always came first. The noise continued to rise around him, but he blocked it out. _How can these creatures live like this, _the arbiter thought as he watched the badblood land on a rooftop four buildings in front of him?

In addition to the sound, there was an increase in movement among the oomans. Several streets to the arbiters left and a block behind him, the arbiter zoomed his vision on his helm to see a commotion was going on behind a building that seemed to be deserted. From what he saw, several oomans were wielding hand held weapons and fighting with each other. Clearly, with no mistaking, he saw the weapons the oomans used on each other and he heard loud popping sounds that made him think of a pistol, the things that oomans used. . They must have been weapons because several of the oomans fell to the ground and never stood again. From the distance on the rooftop, he could see the heat signatures of the downed oomans begin to fade.

_Prey_, he thought to himself thinking about the surviving oomans from the battle on the deserted street, he concluded they would be worthy prey, able to taste of his blades. _Ki'cte_, he scolded in his mind, he could not afford to be distracted, and he had to work before he could indulge his thirst for the hunt. The call of the hunt continued to pull at him. When he returned the badblood to the Clan Ship, he had every intention of returning to the backwater planet to collect as many trophies as the allotted time would allow. Just in the small densely populated area where he had been chasing the badblood alone, had shown all the many possibilities that were available for him on the planet. _So much promise,_ he thought to himself knowing his huntlust was working on him.

Now, he could understand why the badblood wanted to hunt on the planet, but in order to do so he needed permission and permission had not been granted. He was having some of the same desires to hunt the oomans. The feelings were intoxicating to the senses, but he was in control, unlike the badblood who broke _**Code.**_

The streets had become very noisy in such a short time. The clamor brought the arbiter out of his fantastic thoughts. He heard a female scream and the noise level grew even louder as he looked in the direction the badblood had gone. _Something is happening up there, will happen up there,_ the arbiter thought to himself, _and whatever it is, I'm sure that you, Roah' Saun, will most assuredly be a part of it, _he thought remembering the images he saw on the flat screen that was mounted on the wall of the female ooman's dwelling.

In silence the arbiter waited to see what the next move of the badblood would be.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

_Roah' Saun_ stopped on the roof of the building across from the place he would do his hunting once the cover of night had properly cloaked the city. It was a large building with plenty of reflective glass on its façade that was facing onto a very crowded and noisy broad street. There were many oomans filing into the building from different directions as they left their dark metal surface transports, while there were other oomans barricaded from getting too close to the oomans which were of importance. The oomans who were being held at bay screamed and shouted words that sounded harsh and unpleasant to the oomans that emerged from the metal transports.

The yautja was excited by the tumult and uproar the shouting oomans were making towards his intended prey. The aggression towards his prey excited him and his _huntlust_ began to rise.

He had planned the hunt with great enthusiasm once he had found out that the leaders of the backwater planet would be gathering in one place at one time. This _nain-de_ would be a hunt he would remember for many _turns_. He would be able to tell his pups and his pups' pups about the time he had hunted the great leaders of the ooman world.

The yautja thrilled with the possibilities of what the hunt would yield, but he still couldn't get the thought of being followed out his mind. He had checked several times with his different visions, but there had been nothing behind him. _I'm just being __g__kei'moun__, _he thought to himself as he shook the thought from his mind. It was silly to think he was being followed when he could see nothing even when he searched with all the vision modes of his helm.

_Roah' Saun_ had been on his hunting spree unimpeded for three ooman years and he still felt as if he was untouchable. He wasn't sure if the Council of Elders realized what he had done, surely his own sire had known he had broken Code, but no one had come for him. _Weak Council, weak Code, _hethought disgraced with the fact that he had not been tracked as of yet. His kind was either slipping, or the Arbitrators had become incompetent and too pathetic to track him. He knew he was an exceptional hunter, but having a free-for-all for three-quarters of a turn, three years, only gave him more buoyancy to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it, he was un-stoppable.

Growling to himself, the badblood thrilled about his intended _nain-de_, smirking to himself about his success, thus far. He would hunt on the backwater planet and gather many trophies. His plan to hunt the leaders of the ooman world was brilliant. No other yautja could have come up with such a solid plan. It would be a simple task, like taking a sweet from a pup. The weak pathetic pyode amedha had made it so convenient for him by being in the same place at the same time. So very lucky for him, but most unfortunate for them; they would lose their heads and he would mount them in his trophy case. He had already arranged his case to accommodate his soon-to-be acquisitions.

When he approached the backwater planet several days earlier, he did not have a plan for this spontaneous hunt. He had only planned to stay for a while and see what the backwater planet had to offer. He had heard from other hunters, who had dared to hunt as they pleased, that the ooman world held promise and there was an element of worthy prey on the planet. He didn't know what to expect, but for him, there was no harm in scouting to see what was available. His source he had met a quarter-of-a-turn earlier, said the backwater planet was whispered on _Nun' Doon_, as a place for high-quality hunting, though not as celebrated as hunting kiande amedha. It was talk Roah' Saun knew, and any word that was spoken on _Nun' Doon_ could not be completely trusted, but he had been curious. Curious enough to transgress the _**Code**_ and seek the honor and fame that such a hunt would yield.

Understanding some of the languages of the backwater planet had allowed Roah' Saun opportunity to do a scan of the planet before actually landing. Through his scanning he had found a primitive form of communication that was transmitted via several probes that floated in space above the planet. The primitive communication was more than informative, he had listened and found out about the great gathering the oomans were planning to have in their very near future. It was to be a assembly that many on the planet would participate in.

The gathering of the ooman leaders was said to be of epic proportion for the weak creatures, a gathering that was so significant for them, it was to be heavily secured. The high security for the meeting was the thing that had attracted the yautja for the most part. If the security were to be high, then the quality of the prey would be worthy of his blades. So many would be there and he would get as many as time and his skill would allow him to take. He has set a minimum of two _scores_ of skulls, but if he was able to get more, he would.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

It had taken a while and the arbiter had made sure he kept a safe distance behind the badblood as he tracked him. They had moved around the small densely populated area for well over an hour and the arbiter thought the criminal was moving in circles, had been moving in circles with no clear destination in sight. It was like the yautja was trying to make sure he wasn't being noticed or followed, but kept taking the same route. The arbiter was growing weary of the mundane movement, but the badblood finally entered the building that the arbiter thought he would enter when they first came to the area. They had passed the same building three times, but the badblood had apparently ignored it until now.

The opportunity was ripe and the arbiter had the badblood exactly where he wanted him. Quick and quiet, was the way he would capture the criminal. With the luck of Paya he would subdue his charge and be gone without the oomans knowing anything. He didn't need any attention drawn to what he would be doing nor did he want his work to cause a scene; he just hoped the badblood would cooperate. He didn't want to, but he would use force on the yautja if it were necessary. It was his intent to get close enough to tranquilize the criminal without incident.

Everything looked perfect, but in the back of his mind something told the arbiter that his luck would not hold. The dimly lit corridor of the ooman structure provided the perfect cover for the badblood to stalk his prey unseen and for the arbiter to track _his_ prey undetected. Both were cloaked and invisible to the ooman eye there was nothing amiss in the corridor. Neither yautja made a sound as both in silence and stealth made their way to their intended targets.

Attentively the arbiter watched his prey.

The arbiter watched as the badblood creep down the silent corridor suspecting, but not seeing the other yautja's presence. Several times the criminal turned looking to make sure he wasn't being followed; each time he looked behind him, the arbiter froze in his tracks allowing the whu'tang cloak shield him from the yautja's searching eyes. When the criminal was satisfied with no evidence of pursuit he would continue towards his destination.

_Where are you going,_ the arbiter thought as he looked at the badblood and continued to follow in silence. The badblood moved as if he knew where he was going, like he had walked the corridor before, but it was taking him an awful lot of unnecessary time to get to his destination. Either the badblood was a blundering idiot and he was hunting blind or he had planned out the elaborate scheme from the beginning. He moved like he was in no rush to execute his plan, but the arbiter could smell eagerness and excitement all over him. Dragh'Ar Ghon didn't think the badblood was a blundering, because he had eluded him for almost a _turn_, a yautja year, four human years. It was obvious the badblood had planned out the intricate strategy as part of his hunt.

With the stealth of their kind, the badblood continued his pursuit of his prey.

From his caution and his deliberate execution of his _nain-de,_ the arbiter could see that the criminal had planned out all he would do that day; and the badblood had come prepared to be successful with his hunt.

Now it was time for the arbiter to run his scenario of the badblood's capture through his mind for clarity's sake. A clear visual of what he would be doing would ensure little or no mistakes.

The first thing to be done was to identify the badblood by name. This was standard procedure and there was no doubt he had the right badblood. He had spent the last three ooman years tracking the criminal. Noting the two mounted casters, one on each shoulder, told the arbiter that he would have to be extremely close to the badblood so he wouldn't be able to use the weapons on him. He also had to be swift and fluid with his movements as no to give the criminal anytime to react or draw weapon. As he identified the badblood by name he would de-cloak. It was against the _**Code**_ to attack while cloaked. Even though the criminal did not respect the _**Code**_, the arbiter would and he would give the criminal a fighting chance.

Visually sizing up the yautja, the arbiter saw the badblood was about the same height or an inch or two shorter. The younger yautja was heavily muscled and well toned. He wore scars, but not as many as the arbiter; age, skill and experience gave scars and trophies; hands down, the arbiter had more than the badblood. Making his quick analysis of the yautja's strength and ability, the arbiter decided the first blow delivered would either be a solid punch to the face of his helm or a deafening head butt that would stun but not knock the badblood unconscious before he verbally served him. The verbal serving was a formality that had to be followed since he would be brought back to the Council alive. If his head was the only proof needed, then he would dispense with the verbal formalities and just kill him. If the first blow wasn't enough to confound the badblood, then he would deliver two rapid and more powerful blows to subdue the criminal, then he's verbally serve the badblood.

_I'll have to grab both of his wrists so he won't flee, _the arbiter thought trying to judge the raw strength of the younger yautja. He thought that the yautja's strength might rival his own because of his height and size, but he would have surprise and speed on his side. He'd be able to execute his plan before the badblood had an opportunity to react. He trusted the_ Whu'tang _cloak would get him exactly where he needed to be and the criminal would not know it until it was too late.

Looking at the wicked _ki'cti-pas_ the badblood wore on both wrists, the arbiter decided he would grab the yautja just above the wrist blades and swiftly rotate his arms away from him so the blades wouldn't protract into him. If the badblood knew how to use both _ki'cti-pa_ equally well, and he had no doubt the yautja knew how to use the wrist blades, he would be in a dilemma. This meant if he didn't successfully contain the threat of the badblood using his momentum, speed and strength on the first attempt to restrain the criminal, then he would be thoroughly gutted; thus ending his assignment. Being gutted by the badblood was not an option so he would make sure that his plan was expertly timed and executed. _If only I could just kill him,_ the arbiter thought, then he put the notion out of his mind, killing the badblood by his blades was not an option.

_Speed and precision,_ the arbiter reminded himself. He'd strike whip-like and hard so he could shoot the badblood with the tranquillizer gun. Absently he felt at his thigh to reassure him that the tranquilizer gun was still there.

As he quickly thought and planned, the arbiter let his huntlust rise. The adrenaline was beginning to pulse through his body. Much was riding on his first and possibly _only_ strike against the badblood. The arbiter not only had to contend with subduing the badblood, but he also had the added responsibility of keeping commotion away from the oomans. Luck would probably be against him because the badblood had selected such a public place to hunt. It was a difficult challenge he had to contain, but he felt confident he would prevail. He had prevailed in the past against the odds of success and he was sure that Paya would be with him again and give him the victory.

"_Dtai'k-dte sa-de nav'g-kon dtain'aun bpide,"_ the arbiter breathed silently into the mask of his helm and no audible words escaped his mouth as he moved quickly to closing the distance between himself and the unsuspecting yautja. His huntlust was raging inside him as his adrenaline pounded within his body threatening to cause aneurism in his brain.

A low primitive released from deep within the arbiter's throat and the badblood turned on cue to face the arbiter.

Uncloaking as he as he simultaneously grabbed both the badblood's forearms just above his _ki'cti-pas, _wristblades,as he head butted the badblood so hard that he dented the mask of the criminal's helm. The badblood took several staggering steps backwards before he crashed solid against the wall.

The arbiter saw his first strike had dazed the badblood, but not stopped him. _Now, you'll be punched,_ the arbiter thought, as he spared not a moment between head-butting the badblood and the stone fist punch he was about to deliver.

"Roah' Saun offspring of Elder C'Has'Emi of House Gald' D 'Olin, Clan Zoi 'Si and High Counselor Nefru-Ptah of House Mo' Rhat, Clan Zoi 'Si," the arbiter began as he slammed his fist squarely in to the helm of the badblood's denting the metal mask. Florescent green blood began to drip form the lower left side of the yautja's helm and down his chest.

Still not incapacitated but definitely shocked, the badblood tried to shake off the arbiter's blow in order to regain some composure. At this point, the badblood was not able to maintain his cloak and he materialized into existence under a crackle of dancing blue-white light.

"Roah Saun, _vende-thwei,_ transgressor of _**Yautja Code**_," the arbiter continued as he punched the younger yautja with a stone fist in his gut; not giving the criminal an opportunity to defend himself. The arbiter was uncloaked and he could beat the badblood as much as he wanted too, so long as he didn't kill him. The arbiter wanted desperately to pound on the _vende-thwei_ before he tranquilized him, his huntlust demanded that it be satisfied. Once the badblood was tranquilized and in custody, the arbiter could not, would not harm him. He had chased the badblood for almost a _turn_, and now he would give the vende-thwei something to remember him by as he was being transported back to the Clan Ship.

With speed and precision, the arbiter spoke and pummeled the badblood as he allowed the forced of his blows to accentuate the words he spoke.

"…This day, Dragh'Ar Ghon the Second Arbiter of Clan Ship _Zoi 'Si_, Third Arbiter of the Mothership _Ba' Ruk'Ka,_ retrieve you for the High Council of Clan Ship _Zoi 'Si_. Roah' Saun of the _Zoi 'Si_ Clan, _Gald' D 'Olin_ House, you are retrieved for the crimes committed against the _**Code**_," the arbiter finished as he landed a stone fist in the abdomen of the younger yautja and watched him crumple to the ground.

The arbiter beat the badblood to the ground not needing to draw a weapon. Pleased with himself and the outcome thus far, the arbiter took a reflexive step back to view his handiwork.

_Patience and prudence,_ the arbiter thought as the badblood cowered in defeat before him.

Using the moment, the arbiter collected himself; the arbiter quickly surveyed his surroundings. It would take only a moment and then he would promptly tranquilize the badblood and remove him from the ooman building.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

As he crept deeper into the ooman building unimpeded, Roah' Saun felt a better-sweet sense of success. There was no one stopping him, but he felt like his hunt was doomed. He couldn't explain it, but his magnificent _nain-de_ was too good to be true.

He went with his conscious, which told him; _If the way was clear, then his victory was sure. _

"_Nain-desintje-de_", Roah' Saun whispered to himself as he continued down the long corridor that would lead him to the main meeting area where his prey would be gathered. The victory and the hunt belonged to him.

Checking earlier on the female ooman's visual screen; he was able to find out the progress of the ooman's gathering. This gave him a good idea of whether or not all the ooman leaders had arrived at their meeting. All had not arrived and he had to circle the area several times before he was able to close in on his kill.

When he moved across the rooftops of the buildings he got the distinct feeling that he was being followed, but had seen nothing. Now that he was in the corridor alone, the sinking feeling of being watched and followed returned.

_It's nothing_, he thought to himself, putting the childish notion out f his head.

Logic told him, if there were anything to see or hear, he would have seen and heard it by now. He had the latest in technology and his helm would detect any movement or heat signature. He had superior hearing and his ears had never betrayed him, so there was no cause to be suspicious. _There was no reason to act like a frightened pup_, Roah' Saun thought to himself as he continued to walk down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind him, Roah' Saun heard a low threatening growl and froze. It had been such a long time since he heard such a sound. In fact, it was his plan_ not _to hear a sound like that until he was ready and on his own terms to encounter another yautja.

_Maybe it's my mind playing tricks on me,_ Roah' Saun thought as he turned to look behind him to dispel his suspicions.

As he turned white–blue light crackled before him as another yautja materialized before him. He stood face-to-face with a gold helm and a yautja who was approximately his height with deep navy blue locks that looked black; the long locks fell to the yautja's waist. The yautja wore _awu'asa_ of gold and bore the mark of the arbiter on the crown of his helm.

"Paya be pauked," Roah' Saun swore to himself as he felt two iron-clad clawed hands grip both of his forearms above his _ki'cti-pa_. He knew he was in trouble.

The sudden appearance and speed of the arbiter had caught him totally off guard to the point that he could do nothing. He had two state-of-the-art plasma casters, one mounted on either shoulder and he could not use either. The arbiter had seized both of his forearms with grips that threatened to snap his forearms in two if he moved them. There was no way he could protract his _ki'cti-pas _to stab the attacker and there was no foreseeable way he could twist out of the yautja's grip without seriously injuring himself in the process.

_I'm pauked,_ he thought as he waited for the arbiter to make the next move and he did.

As quickly as he had materialized before him and had clamped down on his forearms, Roach' Saun felt a staggering crash land against him helm. He heard and felt a sick cracking sound as the metal of his helm groaned in pain as it gave way under the pressure and power of the arbiter's skull. A sudden sharp pain assaulted his skull. It felt like the yautja had struck him with the weight of a mace, but he had only used his head. The blow threw him off balance and he was glad the arbiter had released his forearms and had not hit him a second time with his head. He thought if the arbiter would have hit him a second time, he would have split his skull or broken his neck. The force of the blow made him stumble backwards and he felt himself crash hard against the wall of the corridor.

An excruciating pain began to throb at the point of the impact and his vision became blurred, now in front of him stood three arbiters. Without warning he saw the three pale navy speckled fists barrel towards his face. Loudly, he heard a sick crunch as the arbiter's speckled fist made contact with the face of his helm. He felt the tusk of his lower mandible bite wickedly into his own flesh as he felt the warmth of his life blood begin to fill the inside of his helm and run down his chin onto his chest.

There was a ringing in his inner ears, but he could hear the arbiter as he spoke clearly.

"Roah' Saun offspring of Elder _C'Has'Emi_ of House _Gald' D 'Olin_, Clan _Zoi 'Si_ and High Counselor _Nefru-Ptah_ of House _Mo' Rhat_, Clan _Zoi 'Si_," the arbiter began.

_I'm truly pauked_, Roah' Saun thought to himself, _both the Elders and the Council want me._ This would be the end for him. His reign of rebellion would be over and the arbiterwould take his head back to the Clan Ship.

_This can't be happening,_ Roah' Saun thought, _why couldn't I see or hear him? How can he see me and I'm cloaked, _he thought as his own cloak weakened as it crackled blue-white light and he materialized before the arbiter.

Roah' Saun gasped in horror as he became conscious what he had said and what was happening. The arbiter had been watching and following him all along and he couldn't see or hear him.

Grunting in pain as he felt another hard fist punch him solidly in his abdomen, Roah' Saun heard the arbiter speak again.

"Roah' Saun, _vende thwei_, transgressor of Yautja Code…"

Roah' Saun grimaced as he was named and branded badblood, now it was official. If there was any doubt that he wasn't hunted as a criminal, an enemy of Yautja Code, it was gone. He was at that instant officially marked and there was nowhere for him to hide among his people. If by some miracle he was able to escape capture this day, he would live the rest of his life as a lone hunter; making sure to avoid yautjas at all costs.

Another intense punch smashed into him and the arbiter spoke again.

"This day, Dragh'Ar Ghon the Second Arbiter of Clan Ship _Zoi 'Si_, Third Arbiter of the Mothership _Ba' Ruk'Ka,_ retrieve you for the High Council of Clan Ship _Zoi 'Si_. Roah' Saun of the _Zoi 'Si_ Clan, _Gald' D 'Olin_ House, you are retrieved for the crimes committed against the _**Code**_".

_Dragh'Ar Ghon the Arbiter_, Roah' Saun thought to himself realizing who the arbiter was. The yautja was the best on both the Clan Ship and the Mothership._ He will have me in the end_, the younger yautja thought, but would not concede to defeat. He was not before the Council, so he was not at his end, which meant he still had hope for escape.

The second blow to his gut had taken his wind away and his knees buckled as he sank to the ground on all fours. He hurt all over and didn't know if he could take anymore of the brutal pounding. He was pathetic, he couldn't even defend himself let-alone strike back. The arbiter was quick and thorough. _I have to do something,_ Roah' Saun thought, _I can't be taken this easy. _He had to subdue his pain if he was going to save his life, so he began to muster the strength that he needed.

_Think! Think,_ Roah' Saun reprimanded himself in his head.

Roah' Saun now knew that it was true what was spoken about Dragh'Ar Ghon the Arbiter, his skill and efficiency was far superior than the rest in his field of expertise, capturing badbloods. He had not raised a weapon against him nor had he brought a caster of any kind yet he had defeated him in such a short space of time, about ten human minutes. Roah' Saun felt the shame knowing he had two mounted casters, wearing one on either shoulder and he wore two _ki'cti-pas, _yet he was not able to use anything against the arbiter. The other yautja was exceptionally fast and extremely precise with his strikes. It was like he knew exactly what he was going to do and he did not hesitate in doing it.

_I will lose my pride and honor to save my life_, Roah' Saun thought inwardly as he denounced himself as yautja. Now was _vende thwei_; he would be that until his death.

In the distance he heard the sound of many feet coming towards them. The sound could be faintly heard from both ends of the corridor.

_Oomans,_ Roah' Saun thought an wondered if the arbiter also heard the sound of the approaching _pyode amedha_.

Quickly, Roah' Saun's mind began to spin a plan for his escape. He'd use the oomans as a distraction while he used his caster to make a hole in the glass wall to escape. Today he would run like a _tarei'hasan_, and save his life, a coward he would be, but he would be alive. Now, life was sweeter than honor and to live was to gain.

Closer he heard them draw, but the arbiter still made no indication of him hearing the approach.

"Stand, vende thwei," the arbiter said and Roah' Saun obeyed.

Slowly the younger hunter stood to his full height of over eight feet and he shifted his weight towards the reflective glass. He hoped the arbiter didn't realize what he was doing until it was too late.

Once he was standing erect, Roah' Saun continued to listen as the ooman drew even closer.

_Closer, closer,_ he thought as he prepared to power up his casters.

He might be able to shoot the arbiter, but he thought his odds of success would be very slim considering what the yautja had already done to him. He wasn't going to push his luck, but rather stick with his plan that would give him a higher rate of success. He had only one chance and he was going to use it to escape, not fight.

"Now!" Roan' Saun heard himself roar as he aimed his left caster at the reflective glass and cloaked while blasting the glass and diving through the opening he had made.

"I lose my pride and honor to live another day," Roah' Saun said to himself as he fell towards the ground below.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Dragh'Ar Ghon watched the badblood as he cowered on hands and knees before him. His work was done and now it was time to leave and deliver his detainee. In reality, he would have preferred delivering a skull but he had his orders.

His ears caught the faint sound of oomans approaching. _Time to be gone,_ he thought as he reached to his thigh to retrieve the tranquilizer gun. He wanted to be far-gone when the oomans arrived at the spot where he was standing.

"Stand, vende thwei," the Dragh'Ar Ghon said and the badblood obeyed.

After the badblood stood up, he looked at Dragh'Ar Ghon for a moment and then without warning he powered up his casters. At first, the arbiter thought the badblood was going to attack, then he saw the badblood's left caster turn towards the glass wall the shielded the corridor from the outside. The weapon fired and the thick glass shattered and melted in on itself to form a hole large enough for escape. He saw the badblood cloak and then he saw the cloaked form dive through the opening in the glass.

"Pauk!" Dragh'Ar Ghon swore knowing his charge was gone and the oomans had seen only him. Now he could not cloak and follow the badblood, he had to fight.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~ **

This was not supposed to happen. He had come to the end of the hunt for the badblood and now he was supposed to have him subdued and on his way back to the badblood's ship. _Cetanu_ had laughed at him and given him a cruel twist of fate, but what end? Only _Paya_ knew the reason for the irony.

Quickly, the oomans flooded the corridor where he stood, from both ends. The _kwei_ badblood had, refused to fight him and instead, made his cowardly escape through the hole he had made in the glass wall leaving the arbiter to face the oomans.

Now, surrounded by oomans, the arbiter knew that the badblood's capture would be delayed yet again. Officially he did not want the fight he was going to have with the oomans, but he was going to enjoy it thoroughly. He would drink of the hunt and allow his thirst to be quenched. He was ready to dance with death and slaughter until he climaxed. Today he would get his fill of carnage and ask _Paya_ to deliver him so he could finish his retrieval of the badblood.

_Sometimes things happen for a reason_, the arbiter thought, knowing that his huntlust would taste the sweet nectar of the nain-de. He was dressed in his light arbiter armor which meant he wasn't properly prepared for what was about to happen, but he would take down as many oomans as he could before they killed him. He was not going to let them take him alive. Paya knew he needed to be away from the oomans and that his fate was now in the balance.

Like _zi'pattas_, the smaller oomans surrounded him. Easily the arbiter towered a good two feet over the oomans. They pressed closer to him in the corridor from both directions making sure to leave him a respectable twelve feet of clearance on both sides. The only thing that was close to him was the hole in the glass walling that badblood had escaped through. The oomans watched the large hunter with great trepidation.

He saw their heat signatures through the mask of his helm. The thermal images of the oomans were an assorted mixture of red, orange, yellow and blue. Most of the coloring of the images raged red and orange; the oomans were excited and shocked. He could smell the excitement and anticipation oozing from their pores. They were excited about the coming battle. _Fear,_ he thought, as he also smelled it them. He could distinctly smell their fear, even though they held their ground, it hung thick in the corridor and wreaked from most of the oomans. There was a hint of confidence on a few of the oomans, some who actually thought they could face him in battle. Thrilling as a growl began to form in his chest, he told himself the confident ones he would savor killing the most. Those oomans would give pleasure to his _huntlust_.

"Let the battle begin," the arbiter, whispered to himself as he released a sinister growl, the arbiter reached behind him and grabbed his _naginata_ moving smoothly into a _hiju,_ fighting stance.

Now was the best time to get the fight started, the arbiter reasoned. If Paya was with him, he'd be the victor. He needed a quick victory so he could complete the task that brought him to the backwater planet. Now, he wished he had brought his caster. Had he brought the caster he could have easily cleared the corridor of the pathetic filth and be after the criminal. First, he had to clear the corridor.

Not waiting for the oomans to attack, the arbiter went on the offensive. Quickly he leveled his _naginata_ evenly with the heads of the oomans and swung the wicked blade with one powerful swipe as he took a long step towards them closing the distance between them rapidly. A loud cold-blooded battle cry escaped his mouth and reverberated in the corridor.

Immediately the first row of oomans to his right lost their heads. He didn't blink or stop to consider what he had just done. As if time had slowed itself to make emphasis of the arbiter's skill and precision, seven lifeless heads whose eyes and mouths were still open and staring in disbelief fell to the ground with dull thuds one-by-one. The decapitated bodies plummeted to the cold corridor floor and began to cover the tiled floor with the crimson warm blood of the arbiter's first kills.

He thrilled within himself as the ooman blood covered his body. His huntlust began to feed.

Quickly he turned to his left hoping to swiftly decapitate the flanking oomans, but he was not as successful. The oomans watched in horror as their comrades fell to the ground with their heads going in one direction and their bodies going in another. They second group of oomans on the left were so paralyzed with shock and fear that they were not able to fire their weapons. The only thing they could do was take a step backwards to make sure they didn't meet the same fate as the soldiers across from them had.

They had escaped the fate of instant decapitation, but had tasted the wickedness of the razor sharp blade on the arbiter's _naginata_ as it cut through their chest slicing through flesh and bone. The men screamed out in piercing terror as they grabbed at their open bleeding torsos trying to hold their mutilated entrails. Their efforts were of no use; their organs would not stay in their chest cavities they slipped through their bloodied hands as their life slipped away from them. Slowly the seven men sank to the ground knowing their efforts to keep their vital organs inside was futile. They were dying before the arbiter in a most excruciating manner.

It was not his intention to make the oomans suffer, but he could not completely control the hunt, only fate guided the outcome of the _nain-de._

"Paya have _h'chak_ on your pitiful souls," the arbiter said as he quickly swung his naginata again and this time he felt and heard his blade cut through the necks and spines of the humans.

The decapitations weren't clean, but at least the oomans were dead and their suffering cut short.

Moving back to his right and hoping to take out his third row of ooman, the arbiter was faced with automatic gunfire. The oomans had recovered themselves enough to pull several yards away from the arbiter and open fire on him.

"Yes!" the arbiter roared in his native tongue as he charged the oomans.

They were giving him challenge and it pleased him; fueled him and satisfied his huntlust. He felt the ooman's warm blood splatter against and it elated him. He also felt a strange biting sensation across his flesh that was not covered by his awu'asa. He felt his own blood flowing from him.

"Kill the motherfucker! Kill it dead," a male ooman voice shouted and the gunshots from behind him bit angrily into his exposed flesh.

Prolonging the battle and using the oomans as shields, the arbiter jumped over the oomans in front of him and landed in their midst. The gun fire continued to ring out and the arbiter continued to swing his naginata cutting down the oomans in the process. The oomans that were behind the arbiter continued to shoot at him killing their comrades in the process.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" the male's voice yelled realizing that the soldiers were killing other soldiers and not hitting their target. The man yelled above the gunfire and the blasting sounds of automatic weapons until they were quieted.

The arbiter, in his fighting frenzy continued to swing and chop his naginata, cutting down anything that moved in his path.

"Tranquilize! Tranquilize!" the voice sounded again, but he arbiter could not here.

The only thing the arbiter could sense was the smell of fear, death and destruction. It hung in the corridor heavy threatening to choke and kill all that was living. He felt the tantalizing warmth of human blood on his body caressing skin like a sensual lover. His huntlust begged for more and he satisfied it.

Once he had downed all the oomans that had been to his right and in front of him, he moved to kill the oomans that had been to his left and behind him.

Turning to face the oomans, he saw they had moved further away from him and had positioned themselves in an odd formation. There were two rows of oomans, one kneeling and the other standing directly behind them, two rows of eight oomans each and they all had weapons. They had their weapons pointed at him waiting for him. Without wasting time, he ran towards them as he let out an ear splitting battle cry.

"First squad… READY! AIM! FIRE!" a female's voice sounded and the kneeling oomans obeyed. "Reload!" the female barked and all eight soldiers' weapons clicked discharging the used rounds.

The arbiter felt eight sharp pricks bite deep into his hide and he faltered in his steps.

"Second squad… READY! AIM! FIRE!" a female barked quickly and all eight standing oomans quickly obeyed. "Reload!" she barked a second command to the standing oomans and in unison eight soldiers discharged their weapons.

Again, the arbiter felt eight sharp pricks bite in different areas of his unprotected flesh. He faltered again and realized he wasn't moving as fast as he had been moving. His feet were beginning to feel heavy and unsure.

"First squad… READY! AIM! FIRE!" the female repeated quickly and the kneeling oomans hurriedly obeyed. "Reload!" she barked. One single loud sound of discharge and reload echoed in the corridor. The soldiers were holding their nerve and position; closely following the orders of their commander without wavering

A third time the arbiter felt the biting at his flesh. The oomans in front of him bean to wave and distort themselves as their heat signatures were beginning to merge with each other. He blinked inside his mask to clear his vision, but they heat signatures continued to fuse. The oomans appeared to be moving further away from him.

"Second squad… READY! AIM! FIRE!" He heard the female's voice say a fourth time. It sounded far away from him like it was fading in the distance. "Reload!" he heard the voice say, but now it sounded slurred and intoxicated.

The arbiter felt more biting at his flesh, but it was faint, a mere annoyance among of something greater; the fading of his strength. His _awu'asa_ felt heavy on his body. It was like he was a tiny pup trying to carry his sire's awu'asa. _Too heavy and too big,_ he thought. He tried to lift his feet to move them, but they would not obey him. They felt as if they had sunk into the floor and become part of it.

The voice sounded again.

"First squad…" it slurred and the arbiter couldn't distinguish if it was male or female.

"READY…" it slurred on.

He felt his knees buckle beneath him.

"AIM…" the second command slurred.

He heard metal crash against the floor and knew he had dropped is naginata. A moment later he saw his _naginata_ lying on the corridor floor in front of him. He reached for his weapon, but saw a booted foot kick it away.

He never heard the last command to "_FIRE_".

Darkness enveloped him and he waited to be greeted by _Cetanu_, Death.

**oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo**

**GIVE a shout out to the Characters with your review.**

**oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo**

**Vocabulary/translation**

(Have fun with these words and translations… I did… feel free to use them)

**(Words…)**

**Pr'Ehon and Zu'heus** the yautja name for twin galaxies adjacent to earth's galaxy.

**dre'ek **week

**nain-de** a type of hunt

**kwei** tricky, sly

**gkinmaru** the view screen of a ship

**pauk!** fuck!

**oomans** humans

**data' shon'de scanners** yautja technology, scanners that allow several thermal ground-tracking techniques to be used so yautja can bypass and jam any radar tracking system

**pebbles recon nascence probes** yautja technology, probesthe size of a golf ball to attach themselves to the alien crafts and gather information from the craft's computerized system

**Whu'tang active camouflage** yautja technology, an upgraded cloaking device designed so not even yautja helms could read the wearer's heat signature or see the wearer provided the wearer remained perfectly still

**awu'asa** full body armor

**helm** helmet, yautja face covering

**score** twelve

**huntlust** a strong and overwhelming desire to hunt prey, that it is almost erotic in nature

**guan ** night

**chu'khah!** wow!

**sire** father

**bearer** mother

**nok** a measurement, about 13 inches

**Yautja Code, Code** Yautja Law

**c'jit** shit

**Paya** yautja god

**rotation/turn ** a yautja year (four human years)

**Nain-desintje-de** the Pure Win (Absolute Victory)

**g****kei'moun** simple, silly

**ki'cti-pas** weapons, wristblades

"**Dtai'k-dte sa-de nav'g-kon dtain'aun bpide"** "The fight begun would not end until the end."

**vende-thwei** badblood

**pyode amedha** soft meat

**pup ** child

**zi'pattas** small animals about the size of chimpanzees; that looks like a cross between a hyena and a emaciated walrus; they are ferocious when they attack and hunt; they hunt as a group surround the prey and attack as a unit until death

**naginata **a self-powered telescoping spear that is merely one meter at its shortest length, but extends by two meters at each end

**h'chak**mercy

**hiju** fighting stance

**Cetanu **Death

**oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo----oooo**

**Please review this chapter. I would love to get your feedback. **

**I look forward to hearing from you!**

_**From The Author**_

34


	5. Something Alien Something New

**Dragh'Ar Ghon the Arbiter**

**Nubian Dragon © 6/2010**

**-o-o-o-o-Chapter 5-o-o-o-o-**

**Something Alien ... Something New**

As she thought about what she had heard and seen, was hearing, was seeing Cherrie began to let her mind slowly wrap around the possibility of there being extraterrestrial life forms. Science and the world were constantly changing and so were discoveries in the world. Fate had selected her, out of all the scientist she knew in the world, to have the opportunity to be a part of a new discovery, a discovery that would change science and life as she knew it on planet earth. Her golden opportunity had come second hand, but she didn't complain. This was a once in a life time opportunity that she was fortunate enough to stumble upon and she was grateful that her friend had remembered her. Cherrie knew Jamar could have said nothing; and he would be in a shitload of trouble with her, but he did share something Bio-Tel obviously didn't want her to know, they had an alien. She had been the first he had told and she was sure that what Jamar was sharing with her was truth. There was no way the man would shit her on such a serious topic. _You're a real friend_, Cherrie thought to herself as she looked at the tall man that was sitting across from her. The tall man had given her a most exquisite gem in the world of science and had made her life a little more complicated at the same time.

Life could be so much simpler if there was no sign of life outside of earth, but there was, and Jamar had brought that slight complication to her. It was true that she was always ready to do something new and unheard of, but she had no idea how much of a change things would be in her life now that she knew about the alien. Living for Cherrie would be different and not filled with the mundane old lab routines and experiments she had been accustomed to doing in the past. Jamar had brought her something different and she had every intention of claiming it. When she was in the Congo she never dreamed of the possibility of studying alien life, but she was glad. Glad was not the word to describe how she truly felt. Truth be told, she was both amazed and ecstatic about the opportunity her friend had brought to her.

Breathing in deep, she wanted the marijuana seep into her; take control of her while she contemplated what was happening. She wanted to celebrate her good luck with vigor, but she also needed to calm herself at the same time.

She could barely contain herself while Jamar was in her house. Being in the man's presence and being overwhelmed with such a unique opportunity almost made her scream. Cherrie wanted to explode with enthusiasm and vibrancy but she couldn't let the man see her in her rawness. He might lose respect for her thinking she was some ghetto junior college science wannabe. She couldn't completely express what was inside at that moment, she had to stay in character even with him, especially when it came to her work. She didn't want a repeat of what happened with Jonathan several years earlier. _He deserved every bit of it,_ she thought to herself quickly taking her mind off Jonathan. Now she felt mentally dirty. _Forget him, you have struck gold_, she thought and she mentally smiled to herself.

Words couldn't describe how she was feeling at the moment. She wanted to ask the tall dark man to pinch her so she could know that everything was real. She wanted to tell Jamar, yet again, he was awesome and she was glad, that he was working for and with her and not someone else. The very act of him bringing the alien discovery to her attention reaffirmed his loyalty to her. What he was sharing with her was unreal, more than a dream come true; the possibilities were unlimited and they were being given to her like a bouquet of flowers, all she had to do was just reach out and take it. For Cherrie there were no second thoughts about whether or not she would take the opportunity presented to her. As soon as she could make it happen she would seize the moment; make sure Abel gave her the project. She would take it, she would completely possess the once in a life time experience. She allowed herself to let out a strained giggle, hoping Jamar wouldn't notice her enthusiasm, but would mistake it for something else. She couldn't help it, she had to chuckle to herself. If she didn't do something to release the cerebral pressure, then she would get a migraine and then she'd be useless for the next couple of days. _Too much excitement,_ she thought and she hadn't even recovered from her jetlag.

Euphoria was threatening to overtake her, but she had to maintain her composure in front of the man. She didn't want to give him the impression that she was some type of uncouth first year science student, all excitable and unrestrained. Getting excited and acting like a fool did nothing for her image, despite her enthusiasm being a basic and natural reaction to hearing the splendid news from Jamar.

She had to be a professional, even now in her own home. Now she was talking business, science with a fellow scientist, or at least a science tech, not just her best friend, who by the way was her co-worker and subordinate. They were talking science and she was a scientist. She was the most intelligent researcher and the most profound leader in her area of expertise, communication specializing in interspecies-interaction. This specialty consisted of intense research and study on various types of communication between different life forms. Cherrie is a professional and everyone respects her as a leader in her field of communication where she specialize a science that requires her to be well versed in many human languages as well have an understanding about the unlimited amount of ways in which lesser life forms on earth communicate with each other. Her current study is focusing on primates and the role unspoken language and kinetics basically play in the homo-sapiens specie's chain of evolution. Her current science research is structured to be avant-garde in nature so she can design multiple hypotheses on the subject. It's her intent to have them be as abstract as it can so they can be easily manipulated. It is her intent for the research to yield an assorted variety of scientific data that can be used in different areas under the broader umbrella of communication. Basically she wants to create and yield hard scientific evidence from her abstract theories and she knows that she's going to be doing some far out research to get from point A to point B.

Everyone sees and respects her as elite in the scientific research in communication because her discoveries touched so many other sciences and helped to shape them. In some instances she's respected for her genius and in other cases feared because they suspect her to be insane; either way she gets what she wants and she does the type of research that she wants to do.

Image and perception is everything thing in the world of science. There are very few laws of science that are proven while there were literally hundreds of thousands of theories generated to be proven as law. Cherrie, as well as other scientist known, in order to stay on top, you have to be successful and often. The more successful research projects you have, the more respect you get. One has to maintain the image or perception of brilliance even if one isn't. Cherrie, being who she is, has the scientific clout where she doesn't need to fake it. She's had more successful research projects to the extent of not keeping track of them although she knows that Jamar keeps impeccable records of their research.

Being intelligent sophisticated and cutting-edge means she can't be seen as ghetto and crude, something Jonathan would like very much for others to see her as. It is his way of discrediting her as a scientist and dismissing all the work she's done over the years as hoax or just luck. He would prefer anything that would take away her credibility as a scientist. _Fucking sack of shit,_ she thought upset with herself for letting Jonathan creep into her mind a second time. He was nothing to her and she didn't want him to ruin her magnificent moment. Cherrie knew she had to maintain herself even in front of Jamar so he would know this was a significant break for her and her research. Her work would go into yet another direction and she would make even more discoveries while adding new pieces to the puzzle she was working on. It was a puzzle she wasn't quite sure of what it looked like; all she knew was that the pieces of the puzzle were fitting perfectly into place each time she found a new piece.

"This is great, Rasta Brother," Cherrie said finally as she looked up at the 6' 9" dark skinned man. Jamar towered over her, but she felt ten feet tall at the moment. Right now Cherrie was on top of the world and inside she was celebrating.

"Thanks, many times over for telling me about this, I know no one else at the facility would tell me about the discovery, so I thank you," the small woman continued as she maintained her external composure, but she was bubbling over inside with excitement.

"I had to tell you, Baby Girl," Jamar began as he looked down at the small woman. "…it might mean my job, but I had to tell you." Jamar said looking down at the small dark woman reminding himself that he had did the right thing. He knew Cherrie's research was very unusual and studying the alien might be something that could enhance what she was already working on, so he took the chance.

"Don't worry about your job, brother; you work in _my_ lab and you assist _me_, no one will do anything thing to you or your job." Cherrie responded as she shifted on the sofa. The small woman was very adamant about protecting that which was hers which included Jamar and his job at Bio-Tel. Cherrie would raise holy hell if anyone thought about trying to get rid of Jamar. He was her everything in the world of science research, her eyes and ears, her assistant, her confidant and part of her think tank. She always bounced ideas off him and she respected his opinion with all her research, most importantly she trusted him. He was more than a co-worker to her, he was like her brother, the big brother she never had. "I got your back." She said with finality as she gave him a firm look.

Looking at his watch with his blood shot eyes, then seeing the sun begin to break on the horizon; Jamar realized it was time to be going. Despite the fact that he was with his boss, he did have to report to Bio-Tel for work. He didn't want to go, but he knew he had to, so he forced himself to get up.

"It be gett'ng late or early," Jamar began as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen with his mug of tea. Sitting the nearly finished mug of chamomile tea on the counter, Jamar walked back to Cherrie who was still sitting on the deep russet and tan colored sofa that was centered on the glass wall of the bungalow.

Cherrie knew it was time for the man to be leaving and she wanted him to leave, too, but she didn't want him to feel like she was rushing him even though she was. There was so much for her to do and she really didn't have the time she wanted to do it in. Standing up, she placed her half-full mug on the side table near the sofa and she walked with Jamar to the door.

"I will see you later, Duke," she started as she stopped in front of the door and opened it for the tall man. "I have a lot of stuff to do before I get to Bio-Tel, but I will see you about noon," she continued as she wrapped her small muscled arms around the man's slim waist.

"Yeah mon," Jamar responded as he hugged Cherrie back and slightly craned his neck to kiss her atop of her head. "I be keep'ng me eye on da t'ng till ya get there," he continued and then he released her and walked out the door.

"Remember noon," Cherrie said as she called after the man and watched him walk down the slate steps to his truck. She waited for the truck to drive off in the breaking morning before she closed the front door to her bungalow.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Bending over the small smothering bowl of _**ganja**_ that was sitting on the kitchen counter, Cherrie inhaled deeply the pungent invigorating odor. "HOT DAMN!" She screamed so loud that the sound of her voice echoed in the empty open room. She was glad her cats were not there to hear the sudden outburst, she was sure they would be upset by it.

"This is some big shit!" she said to herself elated as her mind raced with the possibilities. "An alien, an extraterrestrial and it's at Bio-Tel." A grin split her face and she licked her brown lips in delight. It was like she had been taken to a candy store and had free reign to get whatever she wanted. Well, she wasn't exactly in a candy store, but it was close enough; she had Abel's ear and she knew how to bend it. She would charm and humor the old man to get what she wanted. Again, she would make him putty in her hands and make sure she had first dibs to study the alien on her terms.

In order to secure her position as the first and primary researcher on the alien project she had to convince Abel that it was in the interest of Bio-Tel to give her the first three months with alien creature before Jonathan got his filthy hands on it. If Jonathan, the butcher as Cherrie has repeatedly called him, got his sadistic hands on the creature first, there would be nothing for her to research and study. If it wasn't living, she wasn't interested and Jonathan always left death in his scientific wake.

_You won't get to this thing before I do, butcher,_ Cherrie thought as she frowned at her thought concerning Jonathan Noël. She loathed the man on both a personal and professional levels. When it came to his type of science, she had no use for it. Jonathan studied and researched death and how to kill things, both man and animals; now the alien would provide a third type of being to for his sick mind to experiment with. Just thinking about what he did left a nasty taste in her mouth; she preferred the living to the dead any day, not to mention the living gave more answers to questions than the dead did.

"Alright smooth chocolate, time to make your move and get what you want from big daddy," Cherrie said to herself as she turned to the ganja burner that was near the sofa. Deciding to take another _**inhale **_from the _**ganja**_ burner, Cherrie brought her face to the lightly smoldering smoke and she fanned the steady stream of pungent smoke. Even thought the odor of the marijuana was strong, it also had a soft hint of chamomile to it so it would soften the intensity of the weed. She would still be able to experience her _high_, but it would be gentler on her nose. She needed the _high_, but not the sharp intensity straight ganja would give her as it stimulated and aroused her brain. Slow and steady she fanned the grey-white smoke and watched as the width and height of the smoke stream increased. Waiting for the perfect build-up, she inhaled deeply and then her body began to involuntarily shudder as a response to the marijuana. She could feel the marijuana making her feel comfortable. "Yessss…," she whispered to herself, she could feel herself relaxing; she needed to be relaxed when she talked with Abel.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Abel craved anything of value and he wanted Bio-Tel, his baby, to be the first in any type of gain of scientific knowledge, especially if it would give his research facility notoriety. More than notoriety, Abel liked to possess things and the rights to things no other research facility had, Cherrie knew that her researching and studying the alien would give Abel what he wanted most exclusive value and knowledge.

It hadn't been a problem in the past, but this was different, she'd never had an alien before and she wasn't 100% sure Abel would agree to what she wanted, but she did have the advantage of personally knowing him and working in a specialty that would glean the most information from the alien. She knew she was the best researcher for the project, she just had to convince Abel she was the best so he would give her what she wanted, the alien.

Once she had the project, she would give him that information from the research that she wanted him to have, which was usually the majority of her research, but for herself, she would keep back some tasty morsels of information that only she would have.

_He has to say yes,_ she thought as she eased her legs under her and sat on the sofa.

Before she got too comfortable she remembered the remaining pictures that were left in the printer. Walking over to the printer, she retrieved the last four pictures of the strange alien dressed in gold. She couldn't believe her eyes, a real alien, something from outer space, and something from _Star Trek_. She didn't think that Klingons were real, but the creature looked more like a Kilngon than ET; there was nothing cute or cuddly about the thing.

Looking at the pictures, Cherrie could see even unconscious, the massive alien in the gold looking armor with the funky markings on the top of his broad golden face mask looked menacing, dangerous. The creature was huge and its muscles were corded even while it was unconscious and relaxed; this gave her second thoughts about wanting to study it. The only word she could use to describe the creature was _dangerous_. Many times she had faced danger from animals on land and at sea, but this was different. Cherrie wasn't sure if she wanted to meet the thing when it was conscious, but she wasn't going to give in to her fear. _It's just some kind of animal and you are a beast master,_ she thought to herself. It was just an animal, but an animal from space. She would work with the space creature and handle it like she did all the animals she worked with in her past research. When it regained consciousness, she would immediately establish her dominance over the creature, but she would not make it cower to her.

Shaking her head, still in disbelief with the idea of aliens from outer space, Cherrie felt the marijuana start to loosen her reserved thoughts. Now she thought she should have let Duke pinch her to let her know that she wasn't dreaming and that it wasn't the ganja fucking with her mind.

The calming music of Bob Marley continued to play low in the background. It had been playing all the while, but it was just now that she was actually listening to it. She heard his _**One Love**_ track playing on the CD playing for the third time. At least she thought it was the third time she had heard the song play. She wasn't completely sure and it really didn't matter.

"One love, one race, humans…," she whispered to herself as she stared out the large glass wall of her bungalow looking at nothing in particular. "… not anymore," she said as she looked down at the pictures she was holding in her hands. While looking at the unconscious creature in the pictures, Cherrie could see that it had the general shape and form of a human, but she knew that the thing was far from being human.

"We are not alone in the universe," she declared as she pulled her aquamarine bathrobe closer on her body. The awakening reality of other beings existing was weird, but there was nothing she or anyone else could do to change the fact. Never in her lifetime did she ever think she'd have the encounter such an opportunity to meet another life form but she was ready to ride the waves of time and see just how far this new opportunity with the alien would take her.

Quietly she padded across the wooden floor towards her bathroom where the cellphone was on the top of the sink where she had left it. The wooden floor was cool but she didn't mind, it took her mind away from some of the crazy unreal things that was flowing through it. She needed her head clear so she could talk with Abel, convince him to give her the first opportunity.

Looking around at her loft space and realizing she'd done nothing since she returned from the Congo, she sighed heavily. Cherrie stopped the reprimand she was going to give herself. She hadn't been home long enough to do anything; in fact she hadn't gotten a decent amount of sleep, so she couldn't blame herself for the current condition of her home. "I don't have the time," she mumbled to herself out loud defending herself.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Now it was time to call Abel and claim her right to have the alien first. She wanted to study the creature thoroughly before the butcher got his filthy hands on it. "The house work will have to wait," she said as she began to punch in Abel's cellphone number into her AciaBerry, this was far more important than unpacking.

The phone rang several times before an elderly sounding man with a distinct Russian accent spoke on the other end of the line. Without warning, Cherrie's heart began to beat faster and she could feel the sweat begin to form on the palms of her hands and on her arms and across her chest and back.

"Hello," the man said in his thick Russian accent.

Cherrie hoped that Abel was lucid enough to talk to her in English because she didn't want to talk Russian to him. She knew that the she was waking the man well before he usually got up to start his day and he probably would not respond to her well or he would just revert to speaking Russian, and she wasn't too sure of her Russian at the moment. Now, her mind was coated with ganja and she didn't want Abel to know that she was getting _high_. Getting high was a big no-no for Abel, but she had to do her thing, she just couldn't let him know that she was doing it. To talk in Abel's native tongue to him would be difficult for her and would mean she would have to think before she spoke and right now she didn't want the added responsibility of having to stress her mind more than it already was.

"Hello, Abel, it's me…" Cherrie said making sure she spoke clearly to the man so he didn't get suspicious.

"Me who?" the man said and Cherrie frowned at the cellphone. She didn't sound that bad that he couldn't recognize her voice.

"Me! Cherrie Blossom," she said and grimaced at her middle name. She loved her mother, but she didn't like the middle name the Congolese woman had given her. On the other hand, Abel adored the name and she allowed only him to use it. She secretly thought the man had something to do with his mother giving her the name but she couldn't prove it.

"You sound like you're sleepy or you're sick. Are you sick? Your voice doesn't sound right." Abel said in English with his thick Russian accent.

_Doesn't sound right_, Cherrie though to herself. _How do I not sound right?_

"What…" she heard herself slur. She sounded like she'd been drinking.

She _did_ sound strange. She couldn't let Abel know that she has been inhaling weed. _English!_ She thought suddenly. Abel was speaking English to her. Cherrie was glad the old man was alert and speaking English instead of Russian. She could speak the man's native tongue, but the way she was plastered, she was sure that she wouldn't be able to pull it off without him questioning her more than she wanted him to. She made a mental not to try to sound more alert and awake for the important conversation she was going to have with him.

"Are you awake?" he asked, "I'm surprised you're calling me so early." She heard him continue and then she heard some background noise that told her he was looking at the alarm clock on his night stand.

Her mind went back to her earlier to Jamar and his visit. _The weed,_ she thought. _I'm too relaxed… I'm starting to get fucked up._ She confessed mentally and she went to the small end table beside the sofa in the small living room and got the smoldering burner with the marijuana in it. Taking it to the kitchen she decided to dose it under the water. Once she put out the first burner, she took the second one from the kitchen counter and put it under the cold running water.

"Yeah… yeah… I'm just waking," she lied.

There was a silence on the other end of the line as if the man was contemplating what she was saying. She hoped he wouldn't think too hard about what she said and see the lie for what it truly was.

"I think I might have jetlag," she said to dispel any doubt that might be forming in the man's mind. "…but that's not new for me…" she said quickly trying to cover the lie more.

Cherrie heard so more sounds on the other end of the line. _He's getting out of his bed,_ she thought remembering the man's habits.

"Oh… I see," he said. "You should take better care of yourself, Cherrie Blossom. There's only one you…" he started.

"…and I can't be replaced," she finished knowing what the older man was going to say to her.

At times he was impossible. He doated over her like a mother and she wondered if the man had made a promise to her mother or if they had been involved and the man felt compelled to treat her like his child since he had none of his own. Cherrie wouldn't believe that her mother had been disloyal or unfaithful to her father; her mother had shown so much devotion to him when he was alive and she had honored him to the utmost in his death. She loved her mother for the relationship she had with her father and she didn't want anything to blemish the image she had of her mother. She trusted her mother, but she could not dismiss the fact that Abel had been overly protective at times over the years, even going to the point of acting like he was indeed her father.

"How was the Congo, Blossom?" Cherrie heard the man say and she cringed art her middle name. She wanted to scream at him not to call her that, but she couldn't. Now was not the time to complain or whine about him calling her by her middle name? As a kid he used the name and she didn't like it now even though she was an adult. When she was a child she never liked it when he called her _Blossom, _but she couldn't do anything about it. She was just a kid. He continued to call her by the name, through the years, but now he only used it when they in private. She wouldn't let anyone else call her that, not even Jamar.

Cherrie rolled her eyes, but decided that she had to put her childish feelings and attitude aside; there was something at stake far more important than her middle name. If she came off being rude to the man then she could kiss her opportunity to study the alien _good-bye._

"Democratic Republic of the Congo was fine although I wished I could have stayed longer, but I'm glad I came back when I did," she said then she paused.

She wanted the man to respond to her so she could draw him into the conversation to where she wanted him. There would be the general back and forth chit-chat, then she would spring her tarpon him and hope she was able to get her prize, the alien.

"Oh…" was all the older man said not taking her bait the way she wanted him to take it.

Cherrie frowned at her cellphone, this was not going the way she wanted it to go and she knew that she would have to earn the alien if she wanted it. Abel was not being liberal with his conversation. _I hope I don't have to pull teeth,_ she thought to herself. She didn't want to pull teeth with Abel, but if she had to, she'd make him toothless and give him dentures; she had to have the alien.

Realizing the man wasn't going to jump into the conversation, Cherrie continued with her Congo trip. "Going back to my mother's country was refreshing she started," then she took a mental pause to remember the Boyoma Falls. She loved the African jungles and she loved visiting the waterfalls and camping out at the Lualaba River. Every trip was different and each experience unique.

Bringing herself back to the conversation she was having on the phone, she spoke again. "Boyoma was beautiful; I spent three days at the falls alone and was able to discover some amazing things. I know I was supposed to be enjoying myself and not working, but I could help it, I did some research." She said quickly to head off any complaints the man would make. He has allowed her to go her mother's home country to do a memorial for her, not have her do research.

She heard the man clear his throat and knew that he was going to comment on what she had done. "I was able to meet with Andrah to find out who the new candidates were for the medical scholarship in mother's memory." Cherrie said hurriedly and the man stopped his fidgeting on the other end of the line.

He waited patiently for the young woman to continue to speak. He knew that there was much to tell and he was prepared to listen. He did want to know what was happening to the scholarship they had started in honor of his beloved. They had raised almost four million dollars, most of which was the effort of Cherrie. He didn't know how the young woman did it, but she was very persuasive with institutions and companied to give generously to the scholarship in her mother's name.

Abel listened to Cherrie talk for about five minutes telling him about her trip to the Democratic Republic of the Congo. She talked with a mixture of excitement and urgency. Personally he didn't care for the African country, but he did want the young woman to stay connected to her mother's roots. It was only on occasions that she traveled to the jungles and the river while she kept her mother's memory alive through educating the females across the country in the medical field. Soloyia had been a medical doctor and Cherrie was a medical doctor also, but he had steered the young woman in another direction and she had wholeheartedly embraced it. She had changed her profession because of him and chose science over medicine. He had become her mentor and her father figure Cherrie and Soloyia had allowed him to shape her daughter's life. She was solidly into science and research although she maintained her license to practice medicine. Because she had felt the pain of guilt and felling like she had betrayed her mother's wish for her, she had asked him to help her establish a scholarship for Congolese women to study medicine in America. With this thought and intent, if she couldn't practice medicine the way her mother wanted her to, then she could help to educate other black women to do what she didn't want to do.

Abel heard something that brought him out of his thoughts and back to the young woman who was talking to him on the other end of the line. "I missed what you said, Blossom," Abel said as he shifted the cellphone to the opposite ear. He didn't want to seem rude as if he wasn't listening to her and making her feel that what she was saying wasn't important, but he thought her conversation had changed and he needed to really hear what she was now saying.

"I said… I hear that you have a secret and I want to be a part of it." Cherrie repeated herself as she walked over to the large glass wall. She saw something large move several yards down the side of the mountain and she figured it was her one of her cats. They might be coming back to the house now. Losing interest in what was happening outside, she turned and walked back into the kitchen area and went to the refrigerator.

Opening the refrigerator, she wanted to see what was in it to eat. She was starting to get hungry. The ganja was starting to give her the munchies and she needed to be satisfied. Her appetite was starting to form and she was glad that she inhaled the marijuana instead of_ toking_ it. Had she smoked the weed as a blunt, her appetite would be ravenous and there would be no way she would be able to get up and go to Bio-Tel. She needed to go to the research facility and she needed to claim the alien for research. She would be hungry, but she was sure she was able to manage it.

"Secret Blossom," Abel said wanting to give anything away. He knew he had not said anything publically about the alien Bio-Tel had in its possession so someone must have told her about it and that someone must have been Jamar Bento. He wasn't happy with her knowing, but he couldn't fault the man for telling her, if he was in the tech's position, he would have done the same thing. The pair worked as a team and they worked well.

_Maybe if I don't volunteer anything then she will back off,_ Abel thought knowing that a can of words were opening up for him. Jonathan Noël had already approached him on researching the alien, but he wasn't 100% sure if he wanted the man researching the alien. Noël did most of his research on the dead or how to kill something. Although the man did excellent research in his area he didn't know if he wanted to give the alien to the young scientist. Noël had made the point that the thing was dying and when it did, he would be able to gleam a lot of information from it that would benefit Bio-Tel.

Now that Cherrie knows about it, he's sure the young woman will want an opportunity to study the alien. She will find a way to sink her research hooks into the alien project and like the pit bull she is known to be at times, he will have a hell-of-a-time saying "no" to her. With Noël wanting the same thing, there will be a cat and dog fight over the alien project. If he could just glide her away from the project, then maybe he could avert a lot of problems.

"Yes Abel, secret…" Cherrie said as she rummaged thought he main shelf of her refrigerator. With her efforts, she found several items she could eat to satisfy her hunger.

"I know about your little green Martian, and I want to study it," she said being blunt. Time was being wasted and she had _no_ time for games, she wanted the alien first. It was time to negotiate. Cherrie was always blunt when she was in negotiations; her bluntness was mingled with her strength. She had to be strong in order to get the alien because knew that Jonathan wasn't going to place nice with her.

"Who told you about the alien?" Abel asked, but he already knew the answer and he knew that she knew, he knew the answer to his own question.

_Now he's playing games,_ she thought. _No games!_

"Does it matter? Abel you know that nothing gets past me," she began to sigh. _No this, not now,_ her mind pleaded. _Just stay on track and you'll get what you want,_ she reminded herself.

"I know it was Benton," Abel said finally.

Cherrie said nothing to confirm or deny the man's suspicions. He waited, but she offered him no answer.

"I want this…" Cherrie Started. "… I love you!" she said excitedly when she saw a large bowl of fruit salad freshly made. She especially loved the way that Duke made fruit salad. The man was a culinary genius. She loved when he cooked for her all he had to do was tell her what he needed to make a meal and she would get it. Her reward would be the most scrumptious assortment of food she had ever tasted. The West Indian dishes her prepared were to die for, if she allowed him, he would make her heavier than she already was.

"You love me?" Abel said confused.

"No… I love this fruit salad I'm looking at." She couldn't help herself, but her mouth started drooling when she saw the tantalizing bright assortment of domestic and tropical fruit. Hurriedly she pulled the metal bowl out the refrigerator. The fruit salad was cool and beautiful with a collection of fruit she recognized and some that she didn't. The food before her was like an artistic masterpiece, a delight for someone with an appetite like hers. Truth be told, the ganja was doing a number on her, but she refused to admit it. Anything that was food was a thing of beauty to her. She hadn't had any weed in almost three months and now this little rest & relation session was trying to make a fiend out of her.

Once she realized what she'd said and who she's said it to, Cherrie had to do some damage control. "I love you too…. Abel, you're special," she said trying to recoup any of the cool points she had lost with him before she said she didn't love him. ""You're like my dad…. How can I not love you," she continued thinking of how she could turn on the _Daddy's little girl_ charm so it could work in her favor.

Cherrie was a daddy's girl and just like her own father, she knew how to get Abel eating out of her hand. She didn't want to do it to him, but she would if he didn't give her the alien willingly. She didn't like to play dirty with Abel; she would feel guilty after she had convinced him to do something that he really didn't want to do. Abel Weismann was a brilliant, strong, proud Russian man, but like any man he had a weakness. She knew that his love for her and her mother was his Achilles heel, and his relationship with her meant everything to him. Very few people knew that he was a part of her life since the day she was born and even fewer knew of the bond that he shared with her mother. She did care for the man and would do anything to protect him, but at the same time she had her own agenda. He had taught her well to get what was hers regardless of the cost. Now she wanted the alien and she wasn't going to let Jonathan get is filthy hooks into it; she didn't want to but she would use the cards that she held to win the alien project over her nemesis.

"Oh," Abel said sounding a little offended. He did care about Cherrie about, she was like a daughter to him, but he kept his personal and professional life separate. Most wasn't blind and they knew there was some connection between Cherrie and himself, but for the most part it speculation on the part of others. He never confirmed nor did he deny his relationship with Cherrie because it was none of their business. Cherrie also knew that he never mixed personal and professional relations—so why was she saying what she was saying?

Having an idea of what she wanted from him, he would not offer her any special privileges because of their private relationship, but would let her speak her mind, hear her out and then weigh her request against Jonathan Noël. She would have to prove to him or convince him of the merits her research and how it would benefit Bio-Tel. it was the same proposal Jonathan Noël had to present to him. It was true that he personally didn't much like the man, but Noël was more than competent with the research he did in the past his work was proven to be most exceptional. Abel didn't know why the man didn't just build his own research facility; his family had more than enough money to do that. Abel suspected the man being at Bio-Tel had something to do with Cherrie, although neither of them said anything about it. He was 100% sure, but there was something most tempestuous between them. He could sense it and he didn't want the man near her, but she seemed to hold her own quite well around him.

"Abel, I want this," Cherrie said as she took a large spoonful of the fruit salad. She was really hungry now and she had to eat something or she'd start to get agitated and the conversation would take a nose dive. Placing the cellphone against her chest to muffle the sound of her savoring the fruit salad, she enjoyed her tropical delight and silently blessed Duke.

"You want what?" Abel said wanting Cherrie to come out and make her request known. He knew what she wanted, but she had to negotiate for it, convince him to go with her research instead of Jonathan's. This was business and she had to approach it from a business prospective if she was going to get anything from him. _We'll just see if you can get this one Miss Blossom,_ Abel thought as he waited for Cherrie to speak again.

"I want the alien first," Cherrie declared, strong and with finality.

Again she pressed the cellphone against her chest and she took another spoon full of fruit salad. God, she was hungry. She was beginning to feel like she hadn't eaten in days; it was almost like she was starving. She didn't know weed could have such an intense affect of you, and then she remembered that she hadn't eaten anything since her light breakfast before leaving for the states.

"Well," Abel began. She had a tone in her voice that said give it to me or else and he wasn't going to give in to her that easy. He wasn't a push over; he was a no-nonsense hard ass that took no prisoners and everybody knew it. What they didn't know was he was putty in her hands and the hands of her mother when she was alive. He loved her, but he wasn't going to let her corner him, no, as a scientist.

"You'll have to do better than that Cherry Blossom, you're not the only one that wants the alien; Jonathan wants it too and he's already made his request known. He had a very good proposal that made him a very good first contender." Abel said keeping his voice even and steady. He wanted the young woman know that she would not manipulate him, but get the project on her own merits, if she did.

"What!" Cherrie barked.

Abel pulled the phone away from his ear not wanting to hear the tirade that was to follow.

Cherrie was shocked with what she heard and the fruit she was eating just sat in her mouth without her chewing. She couldn't believe Abel had actually considered giving Jonathan first dibs over her. Was he crazy?

"And what did you tell him? " Cherrie said a little harsher than she would have liked. _Calm down girl before you blow this,_ she thought; _hear the man out before you say something stupid_.

"Nothing yet," the older man said sounding tired. "I'll be talking to him today as a matter of fact."

_He hasn't given him as answer;_ she thought as she listened to the man, _I still have a good chance to get what I want._

Quickly, her mind started tried to turn and she planned how she was going to convince Abel to give her the alien first.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

It was dark.

Dark and cool.

Lonely, he was alone and he knew not where he was.

The place had a strange, peculiar yet familiar scent to it. It was a smell he had encountered numerous times, more times than he cared to remember; he smelled death. His mind shuddered at the thought. Was he dead? Had the pathetic oomans succeeded in killing him? Had he lived his life for almost four hundred pitiful ooman years just for it to end with them capturing him and killing him with their inferior primitive weapons? _Paya be damned_, he thought. He felt that his god had betrayed him; cheated him out of the honorable death that he had so richly deserved. This was not the way he had wanted to leave life, it was dishonorable. _A shameful to die, at the hands of prey,_ he though upset with himself. He would have gladly taken his own life if it meant the oomans could not honorable claim him as their trophy.

_Trophy,_ came another thought. He had made it his life to be an avid collector many types of trophies and being arbiter afforded him all the opportunity to hunt various types of prey from many different of worlds. **Vende-thwei** fled to many places to escape the Code and he followed them to the many worlds for retrieval or execution while collecting trophies along the way. Fate was very ironic and in many ways unkind. Now the tables were turned on him, he had become prey and possibly his skull was hanging as a trophy on display or maybe the oomans had just destroyed his body.

He felt he chill of the dark place and concluded that he was indeed dead. He wore no armor and he could not feel his _**k**__**á**__**sh luda**__**ə•**__**fidav**_ on his skin. The _**k**__**á**__**sh luda**__**ə•**__**fidav **_was supposed to cover his body; if nothing else, the fishnet like jumpsuit was designed to maintain his body temperature at an optimum level where he would not feel the cold. "**Paya** _**br**__**á**__**an **_**h'chak **_**'ol**_ _**mwei'lei**____**sa'aur**___…," Dragh'Ar Ghon whispered to himself in the darkness.

"And why would the goddess want to have mercy on such an arrogant, self-righteous, self-centered pup as you?" Dragh'Ar Ghon a large deep voice say in his native tongue.

Immediately the yautja went on defense and he cursed the fact that he had no weapon; not even his _**d'**__**nat**__**á**__**•**__**oel**_ which he always kept with him. He had no way to defend himself, even in death, against those that would defy him.

"And do you think you can fight against me and win, you foolish youngling?" the deep voice boomed and Dragh'Ar Ghon felt his skin crawl. Never had he heard a sound that unnerved him as easily as did the sound he was hearing at the moment. It was like it was all around him and in his head at the same time.

Wildly he moved and looked around in the dark like the blind, helpless and pitiful. He could see nothing, only heard the resounding voice of the other that was in the blackness with him. His thermal vision was useless and if he had his helm, he was sure he would still be as sightless as the blind in that place.

The deep voice started a rumble of a laugh and it grew. As it grew is sounded more and more condescending, like the voice in the dark was ridiculing him, and had a right to mock him. The satanic laughing filled Dragh'Ar Ghon's head and it until it began to ache, but the yautja refused to touch his pained head; he didn't want to give the unseen tormentor the pleasure in knowing that he was causing him pain. Instead of bowing to the pain that was assaulting him, the arbiter began to get angry. He cared not for the voice and he was not going to stand idly by and let some faceless, nameless creature insult and ridicule him like he was_** z**__**á**__**bun**_. In life he would never let a yautja or any other being insult him without a challenge.

"Only **s'yuit-de** would hide under the cover of **guan** and speak words that would end his life," Dragh'Ar Ghon said as he slowly turned his head from side to side and listened for the direction the attack would come from. Quietly he began to shift his weight from one foot to and other making himself ready to respond to just about anything. He had made his own challenge towards his unseen tormenter and he was ready to do battle with the yautja.

Abruptly the satanic laughing ceased. _I have your attention you_ _**kwa**__**•**__**á**__**d**_, Dragh'Ar Ghon thought and he felt a chill go down his spin and stop at the base of both his dew claws. It was like something had taken its angry talon and slowly but deliberately grazed it down the length of his back and down the back of both his legs simultaneously. The sensation was unnerving and it left him cold feeling the distinct lines that were made with the dangerous claw.

"**S'yuit-de…**" the voiced hissed low and dangerous. Again coldness came over Dragh'Ar Ghon, it felt like a cold cape that was caressing him, then squeezing him. _Whatever this unseen thing is, I can feel its power, _the yautja thought to himself as he resisted the urge to rub his arms to get warm.

There was a silence the seemed to go on forever. Dragh'Ar Ghon waited in the darkness to see what the voice would do. By the tone and inflection of the voice the yautja sensed that it was angry and he would end up paying some sort of price for the direct insult. He wasn't sure if he could pay the price, but he was going to stand up to the unseen and when he died this second time, he would do it with honor and in combat.

"**S'yuit-de,** I am not, you ignorant whelp." The voice continued. "In all _your_ minuscule wisdom in all the knowledge _you_ possess, _your clan_ possess, _yautja_ possess, you will never know of my cowardice. I have none."

Dragh'Ar Ghon was silent. His thoughts were silent. With all his being he listened to the unseen. Each word spoken gripped and squeezed him forcing his life, his strength, his energy from him. He listened, the unseen spoke. When the voice in the darkness finished, Dragh'Ar Ghon felt the pressure ease from his body. He didn't know what the words meant, but he was sure he would soon find out.

"Power…." The voice began and Dragh'Ar Ghon tried to mentally brace himself for the assault he knew was sure to come. "Power is a thing I do possess you impudent and despised reason for breathing." Dragh'Ar Ghon felt something lightly graze his mind; it felt as if his thoughts were being stroked; stroked the way a master would stroke his _**ya'oilivin**_. Dragh'Ar Ghon growl at the insulting thought; he was no one's _**ya'oilivin**_, but the unseen was handling him as if he was insignificant and inferior like a pet.

"How I would like for you to taste my power," the unseen said; its voice sounded chilling like someone was scrapping their sharpened talons against a smooth, hard slate-like surface. The sound was grating enough to make teeth chatter.

"It may be… that you are more ignorant than you are arrogant so I will have **h****'chak** on you." The unseen said and Dragh'Ar Ghon felt a slight warmth stroke his mind, it reminded him of pity and weakness.

_Pity…._ The yautja thought, he didn't need any pity. Never had he been weak and in need of **h****'chak**; he wasn't weak now that he was dead he still held to his strength being ready still for any challenge brought to him.

"Even now you choose to fight when you cannot win," the unseen said and Dragh'Ar Ghon felt a thin ban of cold flowing among the warmth that continued to stroke his mind. "You ignorance is great and it leads you down a road from which you cannot return, but …." The unseen started but did not finish.

Before him, Dragh'Ar Ghon saw a dull glow start to form in the darkness. As the dim light started to form, the yautja could see that it served as the background for an odd, but familiar shape that was shrouded by the dark. The mysterious shape that was forming in the midst of the dark and it reminded Dragh'Ar Ghon of something very familiar. Once the dim light was at its apex in the darkness, the arbiter could make out the distinct shape of a yautja in black opaque armor that seemed to suck up the darkness that surrounded it. The being looked to be twice the height of the largest female he had seen and about three times as thick as the broadest male he had ever heard of. The eyes of the yautja beings were like brazen coals that were stoked in the flames which were made seven times hot as the hottest coals to be stoked.

Dragh'Ar Ghon felt it; fear. In his shame he wanted to cower before the being, but he could not, his stubborn unrelenting resolve would not let him fall to his knees and hide his face. It was at this moment that he realized that he faced no ordinary yautja.

"Because you are a pup and are acting on your foolish pride and arrogant ignorance, I have let you glimpse me." The towering yautja being said and Dragh'Ar Ghon swallowed hard. "I am **Cetanu**. _**K**__**á**__**a'ti i'ars**_ _**jarkot-k**__**á**__**a.**_" Death said and Dragh'Ar Ghon visible shivered. He was face to face with death.

Dragh'Ar Ghon wanted to say something, thought that he should say something, but nothing would come out. His mind felt like it was encased in a block of ice and his tongue felt so heavy he thought it would slide down his throat and choke him.

"Without words you are," Death said as the light in his eyes danced wickedly as they bored through the yautja that looked the size of a pup in its first cycle of life. So much did Dragh'Ar Ghon look like a child compared to **Cetanu** and he felt like a pup also.

"We will meet again Dragh'Ar Ghon B'k Jod•dáv son of the House S'Ap'Hir-in, Second Arbiter of Clan Ship _Zoi 'Si_, Third Arbiter of the Mothership _Ba' Ruk'Ka_… we will meet again…" Death said and Dragh'Ar Ghon heard the maniacal sound of the Dark Hunter's laugh begin to grow inside his head. The sound chilled and unnerved him. Slowly the glow of the dim light surrounding Death began to fade and so did the tormenting laugh. Both the light and the laugh faded; and again Dragh'Ar Ghon was surrounded by darkness again.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

In silence, Cherrie sat in her aquamarine Toyota Highlander Hybrid while in the parking lot at Bio-Tel. her mind was racing as she got closer and closer to her fantasy, to study the alien in the gold armor. It was going to happen; it was happening; today would be her first day of research and study on the huge alien. She didn't know what to expect, but she was going to keep her mind and her possibilities real.

She had convinced Abel to give the alien first to her and then to Jonathan. She had been unconventional with her bid for the alien project; and some would say that she had been unethical, but she had decided, one she heard about the alien, that she wasn't going to lose the once-in-a-life-time opportunity because of protocol. She threw protocol out the window along with anything else that would block her getting the alien. _Not_ getting the alien was not an option for her; she had "_worked her toe through a dime_" to make sure Abel said _yes _to her.

Cherrie knew her mother must have been turning over in her grave because of the things she had said to Abel. As far as Cherrie knew, she was spewing out lies and half-truths to the old man, but he was acting like there was some truth to what she was saying.

_It can't be true,_ Cherrie thought to herself as she stared blankly in front of her. She knew that her father was Apache, despite the relationship her mother had with Abel, in her heart, she knew that her mother would never cheat on her father. Her mother was loyal to her father, even in death. Her father had died when her mother was young, but she had never married and had remained single until the day she passed.

Quickly Cherrie wiped the image of her mother and Abel out of her head. _Gross_, she thought. "Some images were not meant to be formed," the black woman said out loud while she silently prayed to her mother for forgiveness. There was no way her mother could have been involved with Abel, no way. She hoped that the Congolese woman hadn't been involved with the Russian; she didn't know and she didn't want to know. She made a mental note never to insinuate that Abel _could have been_ her father or tell him that her mother spoke very fondly of him in private. Her words were strong enough that they could come back and bite her, and she didn't want to be bitten by that truth or the idea of it being true. She loved both her father and her mother; and she knew that they loved her and in her heart she repented of the immoral way she had used her mother's memory to get what she wanted.

_Jonathan,_ she thought and she wanted to vomit. Jonathan would have done the very thing she had done and even more. The man was not above using any means necessary; especially unethical and immoral ways to get what he wanted. She had acted like him and she was starting to hate herself for it. "I am not like him," She said behind clenched teeth. She grabbed the steering wheel of the truck and gripped it tight until both her hands hurt. "I am not like you," she spat, and she heard the door of a car slam loud bringing her out of her funk.

Slowly she let go of the steering wheel and she saw the indentations the preformed hard plastic left in her skin. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Cherrie began to compose herself. _I can't go in there upset_, she thought to herself. _This is not how I need to start off the most important research of my life_. She continued to think as she looked on the mirror of the driver's sun blocker. The dark woman looked at her reflection in the mirror and did not like what she was seeing. Her skin was dull and her eyes were bloodshot.

Right about now she could have used some make-up, but she never used the stuff, didn't know how to use the stuff. If she even attempted to wear the stuff she would end up looking like a clown, or better yet, a fool. "Maybe they'll think I didn't get enough sleep," Cherrie said to herself hoping by saying it she convince herself so she could convince others and they wouldn't know that she was a little _high._ The only one that knew the truth was Jamar and she wanted to keep it that way. She had taken extra precautions to make sure she had washed away the scent of the marijuana from her hair, body and her clothes. She had even drunk some minty Listerine to make sure her breath didn't smell of ganja even though she didn't do blunts. The last thing she needed was to be in Abel's face and he smell weed on her. _Project gone_, she thought knowing that would be the end of all her time and effort to get the project.

"Well, we'll have to make sure that no one knows about the little pre-celebration of our getting the alien" Cherrie said slyly as she smiled at her reflection. 'It's time to go," the dark skinned woman said to her reflection and then she flipped the sun visor back to its original position. Getting out the ostentatiously colored truck, Cherrie opened the back door on the driver's side and took out the matching laptop and her aquamarine colored bag that held all the things that she needed to use while she was in her lab, the things that she didn't want to leave at Bio-Tel. She was ready for the day and all the excitement it was going to bring her, but she first had to get by Abel to get to her lab.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

The brief meeting she had with Abel went well considering Jonathan was in the man's office when she had arrived. She knew her luck could not have been that good as to not see hide nor hair of the man during the day. Once she was in her lab she had planned to cloister herself away from the rest of the world. It was her intent to do her work without interruption or contact with anyone. She wanted and needed a strictly controlled environment until her researcher was ready for the next level of exploration. In all sincerity she wanted very much to start and end her research without ever seeing Jonathan, but she obviously wasn't that lucky.

When their eyes met, she knew Abel had told him that she would have the alien project first because Jonathan's baby blue eyes bore holes into her. If they were indeed daggers, he would have slit her throat the moment he looked at her. She knew he was mad as hell and she didn't give a damn. _Fuck wad_, she thought to herself as she glanced at him and then gave her attention to what Abel was saying. She wanted to laugh in his face and tell him to piss off, but she didn't, instead she took the seat that Abel offered her beside Jonathan.

She would have preferred to sit anywhere in the room except in the chair beside Jonathan. She would have gladly sat on the floor in the corner if it was away from him, but Abel had offered her the seat next to the man. She obliged her mentor and sat next to the blond haired man, even thought it pained her to do it. Abel talked and they both listened. He told them why he had come to his decision to let Cherrie have the alien first and then Jonathan's research would follow hers.

As Jonathan attentively listened to Abel speak, Cherrie knew he was fuming inside. He was angry, but he could not lash out at the older man or tell him what he thought; to do so was to commit career suicide. His knuckles had gone several shades between taupe to red to white as the older man spoke to them. Jonathan held his hands in his lap so Abel couldn't see that they were changing color according to how he was really feeling. Jonathan was a master of deception, but Cherrie knew something of him and he couldn't completely fool her when he could easily fool others around him. He wasn't going to take what was happening to him on the chin like a man, she knew he would get payback.

Cherrie knew Jonathan was going to make her life and her research time a hellish nightmare. For the duration of her research he was going to target her and make her pay dearly, as much as he could, for stealing the project away from him. They would be at war and she would have to battle with him while she did her work. She'd fought with him in the past while she researched her projects, but this time she knew would be no walk in the park and Jonathan would be out for blood and any opportunity to discredit her in a major way. He would also try to crash her lab and she would have to tell Jamar that the lab was off limits to everyone except Abel. She didn't want him sniffing around putting his nose in places it ought not to be and she didn't want him seeing things that she didn't want seen.

_I got your number, asshole,_ she thought as she let her mind and ears go back to what Abel was saying to them. She had first dibs and Jonathan would have to wait his turn and that was Abel's final words on the matter; unless something unforeseeable happened. She'd watched her back with Jonathan, more so than she's done in the past, he was highly pissed off with Abel's decision and he smiled agreeably in the old man's face.

**~o~o~o~o~o~o~**

Finally the meeting was over and Cherrie wanted to dash out of Abel's office before Jonathan could say anything to her. She didn't want to talk to him and she didn't have anything to say to him; no pleasantries would be exchange between them because they were personal and professional enemies. All she wanted to do was get the folder with the general information about the alien in it and haul ass.

"Thank you Dr. Weismann," Cherrie said formally and politely to Abel as she stood and took the manila folder he was handing to her. There was no folder for Jonathan, but he still smiled pleasantly at her slightly nodding his head; his probably only sign that he was acknowledging her. "Dr. Noël," she said politely as she inclined her to acknowledge him. What she wanted to do was smile evilly at him and say "_you lose fuck face"_, but she didn't. She was reserved and professional and she walked out of Abel's office. She felt Jonathan's eyes stabbing at her, but she kept walking. He could stare all he wanted, hate all he wanted, but he couldn't touch her.

**oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo**

**GIVE a shout out to the Characters with your review.**

**oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo**

**Vocabulary/translation**

(Have fun with these words and translations… I did… feel free to use them)

**(Words…)**

**Cetanu** the god of death; Death

_**d'**__**nat**__**á**__**•**__**oel**_ [Maul] the Maul is another weapon of personalized design. It may vary greatly in appearance, but its general usage is the same - used in similar style to a sword, but its power is greatly increased by its counter-balanced design. Mostly created from a forged alloy and double-edged, the Maul is capable of being used as a slashing weapon in all arcs of movement; but it can also be spun like the Naginata, to rain a barrage of blows onto a target. Other designs are reminiscent of the 'mace heads' or 'morning stars' of the gladiatorial era - either solid material with protruding spikes, or forged from a metallic alloy and covered in pointed nail-like objects.

**ganja **marijuana; the West Indian (Jamaican) word for marijuana

**guan **night

**h****'chak ** mercy

**huff** inhaling illegal substances

_**k**__**á**__**sh luda**__**ə•**__**fidav **_ [Body Mesh / Padding]This is a basic "wire"' mesh, worn under a warrior's armor. Apart from providing electric-generated warmth, it is actually a component of the camouflage device's circuitry which allows cloaking of un-armored body parts. Although, as the mesh is seen being worn by most Predators even when cloaking isn't necessary, it seems they were designed as 'jumpsuits' meant for casual wear in their crafts - the closest they get to flight suits.

_**kwa**__**•**__**á**__**d **_ bastard

**s'yuit-de **coward, pathetic; low and demeaning description

**toking ** puffing on a marijuana cigarette

**vende-thwei **badblood

_**vor**__**•**__**rh'f**_ ghost

_**ya'oilivin **_yautja slang for pet; house pet; lapdog; it is meant to be a degrading term for a ooman

_**zábun**_ insignificant; nothing

**(Phrases…)**

_**k**__**á**__**a'ti **__**i'ars**_ _**jarkot-k**__**á**__**a**_see and remember

**Paya** _**br**__**á**__**an **_**h'chak **_**'ol**_ _**mwei'lei**____**sa'aur**___… God have mercy on my soul…

"_**worked her toe through a dime**_" did everything that she could

**oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo**

**Please review this chapter. I would love to get your feedback. **

**I look forward to hearing from you!**

_**From The Author**_

20


End file.
